The Choices We Make
by The Original Frizzi
Summary: AU DA:O * The choices we make hold a big impact on our lives. It could happen immediately, or further down the line, either small, or a lot more than we realize. These are Kit's choices. Rated M for lots of mature things. OC!Warden, and many pairings!
1. Chapter 1

_This story came to me while writing Slim Order of Justice, and Kit as a character was so enchanting to me that I simply had to write her story. Because, it also occured to me: when it comes to origin stories that are unique per one race of Fereldens, dwarves and elves have two, yet humans have one... I decided to fix that. Here I present my interpretation of the Human Commoner Rogue origin!_

_Bioware owns everything; I own Kit... in the loosest sense of the word. As always, enjoy!_

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><p><em>Eight months before Ostagar<em>

o0o0o

A bright, sunny day in mid-spring Ferelden came, shining in through a slit in the cloth curtain. Catherine Averill, or Kit, as she preferred to be called, sleepily mumbled as it woke her, making her scrunch her eyes shut and roll onto her side, trying to burrow herself deeper into sleep for a few more moments.

That was until soft, padded footfalls reached her ears.

Kit held herself very still, didn't even dare herself to breathe, as the footsteps drew closer to her bed, pausing just at the edge of it...

"Is she awake, Rosie?" one voice whispered.

"I don't know," Rosie whispered back. "Climb up and see, Gracie."

Before her other younger twin sister could answer back, Kit quickly rolled with a mighty "BLAAAAAAARRRGH!" Before the two young girls could scramble away, Kit had them enveloped in her arms, making eating and lip smacking noises against their necks while tickling their sides. Both girls squealed with laughter as they wiggled in her grasp, allowing themselves to eventually be pulled up onto the bed with her. Kit knew that as she did this, it would give both girls the open opportunity to start chattering nonstop.

"Do we have to go to the Chantry today?" Gracie felt the need to start complaining.

"Yes," Kit replied. "It's important that you girls go, learn about our religion."

"But Sister Theohild isn't as fun as you..." Gracie continued, holding her cloth doll close to her.

"Except when she messes up the Chant," Rosie interrupted. "She says that the Maker will 'bread' sinners-"

"And we'll find 'peas of mind'-"

"And 'what one man grains, another has lost'-"

"Okay, okay!" Kit giggled, covering both her sister's mouths. They both giggled in turn as Kit removed her hands, brushing them gently through their soft blond locks. "Don't let Mom catch you two saying that, though. It isn't very nice."

"I promise," Gracie replied as Rosie nodded in agreement. The first girl snuggled down next to Kit's shoulder as Rosie took her turn, gesturing with her own doll.

"Can we go see Natalya's wedding?"

"Please?" Gracie chimed in.

"We saw her in town yesterday with Mama, and she showed us her dress- it's very pretty!" Sighing rather dramatically for a seven-year-old, she continued. "I can't wait to be married someday..."

"Oh?" Kit asked, prompting further conversation with a smile.

"Yes! I'm going to marry the nicest, smartest, handsomest boy in Ferelden!"

"No, me!" Gracie protested.

"Handsome, huh? What will they look like?" Kit asked, steering them away from that tiny spat before it could start.

"Well," Rosie started, "he has to be tall."

"Very tall."

"At least eight feet tall!" In emphasis, Rosie stretched her arms above her head as high as she could reach.

"Mine has to be strong, like one of those knights in the bedtime stories you tell us-"

"He has to be nice too, don't forget."

"And he has to love kitties!"

Rosie gasped with excitement. "Yes! Instead of babies, we're going to have kitties!"

"Kitties are easier to take care of, anyways."

"And they're cuter."

"And less smelly."

"That's most important, we can't be too smelly and icky."

"Very important," Kit agreed, managing to hold back the majority of her laughter thus far, though their comments on raising cats instead of children were starting to make her lose it.

"What about yours, Kitty?" Gracie asked, using hers and Rosie's nickname for her.

"What about mine?"

"You have to have a dream husband!" Rosie insisted. "Is he tall? Handsome?"

"A soldier?" Gracie asked, as both girls started scooting themselves closer to her, as if that would incite her to answer sooner.

"Is he a knight?"

"A great slayer of dragons?"

"Kitty, why aren't you telling us who he is?"

"Alright, alright!" Kit cried, surrendering. "I'll tell you girls who my dream husband is... later tonight." She finally gave in and laughed as her sisters whined in protest of her answer. "Now, when have I ever denied you two a good story?"

"Can we still go to Natalya's wedding?" Rosie asked again.

"We'll see," Kit promised them. She had a bit of a knack for sneaking her sisters and herself about in Denerim, so it wouldn't be a large feat for her.

"See what?" a male voice from her doorway. All girls turned to see their father in the doorway, looking in at them. While Rosie and Gracie had the smart sense to stay on Kit's bed and say nothing, the older girl's eyes hardened. Kit rose to a sitting position, casually wrapping her arms around her sisters.

"They wanted to show me how far they were getting in their lessons," she lied.

He looked straight at Kit longer than necessary, as if looking for something; she'd rather die than give him that much satisfaction. He broke the contact first, moving to stand out of the doorway.

"We should wash up and get some breakfast," she told the two young girls, ushering the two of them off the bed before climbing out herself. She shifted the overlarge shirt she slept in into place (lower hem hanging well over the waist of the jerkins), quickly finger combed her cropped hair, grasped both young girl's free hands, and walked with them out of her bedroom door.

Her father's hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Your mother wanted me to tell you that today's laundry day."

Kit just barely bit back cursing aloud. That bit of news was always fantastic...

"Make sure you do a good job today," he added, placing pressure on her shoulder.

She kept her eyes ahead of her, sliding her shoulder out from under his hand, and ushering the two girls onward. Kit hadn't given him any reason for him to think otherwise, and she wasn't going to start now.

_And today had started out so good, too..._

"Can we help you work today?" Gracie asked, trying once again to weasel her way out of the Chantry services.

"Nice try, but no."

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><p><strong>AN: And here we have it, my OC Warden! As mentioned above, it's going to take a bit of backstory before actually getting to Ostagar... since there's a certain rogue in particular she simply *has* to meet. xD Read and review, and I'll get Chapter 2 up as soon as possible!**


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Wheeeeeeee, long posty! xD Kit and her new budding friendship took me a lot further than I intended, but it made for a fun mini-adventure._

_Bioware owns all, etc. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it._

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><p>If Kit could describe her home in one word, it would be 'busy'. Living on the near immediate outskirts of the market district always subjected her to the daily chaos, and working there every day merely solidified how to make her way through it in her system. Her mother lived in the city her entire life, raising Kit and her sisters in the very same house their mother grew up in. As a matter of fact, Kit even thought that she inherited her own mother's bedroom.<p>

Much like she was told she would inherit her mother's stall someday. The two of them had worked hard in selling vanity-type soaps and perfumes for those who could afford it, industrial, do-the-job soaps for those couldn't, and health salves for the military/guards that dotted the square. While her mother had a head for business and negotiating, Kit was then delegated to helping make said products and making deliveries when needed. And like any other hard-headed young woman that didn't want to accept their lot in life, she always dreamed of what life would be like if it was different.

Little did she know that an opportunity to begin a new life was soon about to present itself.

After she had dropped off Gracie and Rosie with Sister Theohild, she hurried her way over to the stand, where her mother had just finished setting up a small display of goods. The older woman straightened and turned, spotting Kit. "Ah, you're just in time. The dried soap blocks need to be cut, and today's a big day for deliveries."

Kit smiled, to avoid being lectured about accepting duties by groaning aloud, and said, "Good morning to you too, Mom."

Her mother smirked good naturedly, knowing full well her daughter's true feelings, and pulled her daughter close to kiss her cheek. "Good morning, sweet. Now get to work, it's a busy day."

Binding her hair back behind a scrap of cloth, Kit did as her mother asked. The larger soap blocks were tackled first, being broken into smaller, more manageable pieces by an abandoned axe that was missing half of its handle. It was never a perfect job, but it was never meant to be pretty in any case. Once those were done and placed into baskets, more of the same soap was made to be replaced in the wooden settings, to dry and be cut the next morning.

"Alright, I have your list of places to go," Kit's mother announced in the brief lull in customers and after the last bit of soap was poured. Kit rose and grasped the axle piece of the medium sized cart off to the side of the display table, before accepting the slip of paper... and stopping as soon as she read the first name. "Mom, you can't be serious?"

"What now, Catherine?"

"Does that evil wench of a woman really need soap from us-"

"A customer is a customer. If I have to be nice, then so do you."

"But Mom, if ever there was proof that demons lived amongst us, she would be it! Or at least a spawn of one, after it somehow mated with a snake-" After being silenced once more by a chiding look from her mother, Kit dejectedly said, "A customer is a customer."

"There's my girl. Now be sure to hurry back."

_Oh, there'll be no doubt in my mind I'll race through Goldanna's delivery._ Goldanna worked a washerwoman's business out of her house, which was where Kit's mother used to bring their linens. Both elder women were cordial to each other, while Kit bonded almost immediately with the numerous amount of children in the house. What could she say, she was a sucker for sweet, innocent faces. It soon became abundantly clear that the five little angels were the only reason she'd willingly go to Goldanna's house.

The woman griped constantly about not having enough money, as if it wasn't clear enough to just about everyone trying to make a living in the market district. She even had the gall to bring her children into it from time to time, always harping about how she had five mouths to feed, five bodies to keep clothed and healthy, five children to educate. It had broken the younger girl's heart to hear the same words come from the small children on occasion.

Kit's mother was always polite enough to make sympathetic noises while nodding; unfortunately, Kit lacked in that area of expertise. She had finally become so fed up with the complaining to say that if Goldanna didn't want that many mouths to feed, she should have kept her legs closed.

Needless to say, her new family had to find a new washerwoman.

Yet, for the sake of wanting to help out with her mother's business, she strode to make attempts at keeping her mouth shut... and sneaking in with the deliveries whenever possible. Today didn't find her that lucky, as she entered the small house to hear movement in the back room. "Delivery," she announced aloud, making her presence known to The Evil One.

"Oy, who's... oh, it's you," Goldanna stated as she looked around the corner, apparently not happy to see Kit either.

Kit nodded once, wishing she could just pitch the bundle at the woman and leave, money be damned.

The older woman drew away from her washing bins, coin pouch in hand. "How much?"

"Twenty bits for five bars." _You heartless, cold-blooded, evil-_

"Maker be merciful, I could afford more of your fancy items if I didn't have so many children to take care of," Goldanna prodded as she handed the money over, watching Kit carefully for any sign of something to complain to her mother about.

The younger woman, in turn, was biting her tongue to keep from cursing the woman out. _Oh, was she pushing it_... Woodenly, the exchange was made, and Kit forced herself to calmly leave. Once she was outside and pulling the cart along, the money safely stashed away in the coin pouch on her hip, she let the woman have it, muttering curses to Goldanna's name and her general existence under her breath.

The rest of the deliveries went by more smoothly than the first, making Kit grateful that she had tackled the most difficult to her sanity right away. She stood in front of the last delivery place, her family's clean linens in the wagon. All she was waiting for was the head of this household to gather the payment together. Idly, her arms stretched overhead, loosening the muscles in her arms and back before falling back to her sides-

A burst out of the alley next to her abruptly turned her gaze. A dark haired, tanned man pressed himself up against the wall, trying to slow his harried breathing. Kit could only stare, fascinated, as if his sudden appearance was like something out of those stories she told to Gracie and Rosie.

It seemed like forever had passed when he finally noticed he had an audience. His dark brown eyes met her lighter brown, and widened as he let out an expletive that made her blush. Leaning forward intently, he hissed to her, "I was never here, you never saw me. Agreed?"

Kit blinked rapidly, snapping out of her reverie. Really looking at him this time, she saw that he was dressed in a set of commoner's clothes either hastily put on or ill-fitting, had a brightly colored and embroidered coin pouch knotted to his belt... and a sheathed dagger on the opposite side. Her own eyes widened slightly at that, but even more so at the red patch of blood on his side. He noticed the direction of her gaze, and did his best to cover it, but Kit's mind was already whirling.

It was obvious that this man was armed for some reason, and in this part of town, it could be easy to say that he was protecting himself against something... or someone. Maybe that someone got to him?

Or he could be one of those someone's, using a sympathy card to get on her good graces to get her to let her guard down...

She made up her mind as the man turned to leave. "Pssst!" she hissed back to him, gaining his attention. As he turned back to look, she waved him over, pulling the barely used canvas covering out of the inside of the cart. "Get in," she ordered as he drew close enough; he didn't need to be told twice, laying silently on his side as the covering unfurled and was loosely fastened over the sides.

The door opened behind her, startling a sharp gasp as she turned, only to press her hand to her fluttering heart as she saw it was just her last customer. She laughed and mumbled through an apology, accepting the coin exchange. Both turned to look at the pair of armed guards as they burst through the same alley entrance that the mysterious man just used.

"Have you seen a man about this high," one started, gesturing with his hand to approximate height, "running in this direction, wearing a cloak?"

Both Kit and her customer shook their heads no. Technically, she was telling the truth, she told herself; she did see a man that high, but he wasn't running, nor wearing a cloak.

_Andraste's flames, I just lied! To guardsmen!_

"He probably turned down a different alley before getting this far, Erik," one guard said to the other. Erik grunted in agreement, as he turned around and led his companion back the way they came.

"Now, what do you suppose that's all about?" her customer asked.

"I... I have no clue..." Kit found herself lying again. After speaking a quick goodbye, she moved forward with her wagon, not heading back to the market. Not with the kind of cargo she now had.

She pulled the wagon into a dead end alley, before looking around carefully and lifting the canvas up. "We're alone," she informed him.

"A dangerous thing to say to someone you just met," the strange man said, climbing out of her cart.

"Which is why I'm going to tell you now that if I see you again, I'm not helping you out like that again."

"I didn't expect you to begin to, love."

Kit's eyes narrowed at the man as he smirked, seeing that he got a reaction out of her. "I'm nobody's love," she clarified, pointing a finger at him.

"A shameful thing," he replied, shaking his head. "Such a sweet woman such as yourself, taking risks to help defenseless people at any given time of day..." Leaning in close, he inhaled through his nose and added, "And must smell fantastic given what I picked up from the small trip-"

Arching a brow, she interrupted. "Keep talking and you'll see how 'sweet' I really am."

The man chuckled, raising a placating hand. "As my lady wishes," he said, bowing at the waist. Straightening, he held up the purse that he had cut from Kit's very belt during the trip to safety. "And I do thank you for donating to a charitable cause."

Kit's eyes widened. _He didn't..._ She slapped a hand to her hip before looking to double check its absence. As she looked back, all she could see was his rapidly retreating back disappearing around a corner. She had to laugh aloud then, partly in his gall and blatant skill with doing such a task, and also from thinking he could get away with it in _her_ city.

o0o0o

Daveth slowed his run to a walk, looking over his shoulder once more... the alley behind him was empty. A good sign of yet another clean getaway. _And such a shame, too. That lovely thing was quite a fireball at the end, there._ He opened the pouch, making a quick count of coins... and finding that it didn't even reach six silvers. It made him wonder what she really did for a living, to afford so little-

A flying tackle from seemingly nowhere barreled him over, landing on his stomach with an _oof!_ The sudden weight remained pressed into his back, keeping him sprawled out as a rather familiar face tipped into view. "Miss me?" the woman he just left behind asked, smiling widely.

"Where in the flames did you come from?" he could only think to ask.

Arching that delicate brow, she replied, "A woman never gives away her best secrets. Now, if you'll excuse me..." She wriggled her hand under his body, sliding it down towards his belt.

He tried to shift, but didn't get very far, given where she had placed herself. "No need to tackle me to the ground, love. Simply asking will get me into your bed easily enough."

"I'm not anyone's love, if you may recall, and I'm only here to collect on your half of the trade."

"A trade, you say?" he asked, curious over what she meant.

"Indeed. You took something of mine, and..." Her hand finally pulled free from under Daveth's stomach, his dagger in hand. "I now have something of yours of equal value." She lightly patted his head and rose, adding, "Thank you, and have a nice day."

Daveth stilled as her words sank in. _Not my dagger..._ "Wait," he stopped her, scrambling to his feet. She turned back to face him, an expectant look on her face. "Surely there's something else you want..."

"Nope. Save for my coin purse."

_Oh, she's good. I have to give her that._ "There must be something. What's a pretty thing like you going to do with a dagger?"

"You seem to forget how close we are to the market district right now..."

Backpedaling, Daveth insisted, "What I meant was something I could give... that could sweeten the deal in this exchange."

She seemed to think to herself for a long minute before meeting his eyes. "You know, I could have just followed you to wherever it is you must be hiding and leading those very concerned guardsmen to that place. They must be missing their coin pouch something terrible." Stepping forward with the raised dagger, hilt side up, she continued. "However, I can appreciate a need to do certain things to survive a town like this, so I'll refrain... as long as my coins are returned to me."

He considered this girl carefully. She had the definite makings of a rogue, if she wasn't already one herself. And she certainly talked a good game, that was true. And her skill at suddenly appearing and incapacitating him... He raised her coin pouch, handing it over. She accepted, and gave his dagger back. "I could walk you back, since I'm the only one out of the two of us that's armed."

"And I could change my mind about the guards," she replied, smiling just as sweetly as before. Turning on her heel, she just about skipped back from where he came from.

Daveth chuckled to himself, watching her leave. _A fireball, indeed. Any man would be lucky to have her._

o0o0o

Kit pushed through the front door of her father's wood working shop, just a floor below their living quarters. The man in question looked up from the chair he was working on. "You're late," he growled at her.

"It took longer than I thought to finish the deliveries," Kit sullenly replied, heading to the stairs with bundles of linens. Once she was upstairs, she quickly sorted out who's was who's, changing out hers and her sisters bed sheets almost immediately.

She had just finished stripping the dirty ones from her parents bed when she heard the door shut behind her. Her hands stilled as her heart pounded harder, hearing his footsteps coming up behind her. His hands were deceptively calm as they rested on her shoulders, straightening her body and pulling it flush against his before trailing up and down her sides.

"I simply don't want you thinking that you can suddenly pull out of our deal... you understand, don't you?"

Kit bit her lower lip, holding back every single thing she wanted to say to him once more... and nodded.

"There's my girl," her father crooned in her ear, slowly slipping her clothes from her body.


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Okay, shorter than the last, but it's a great place to end before the bigger changes start taking place. xD_

_As we all know very well, Bioware owns everything Dragon Age related; yet I own Kit. As always, enjoy!_

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><p>It was a couple of days before Kit saw the cutpurse she coerced her money back from. She didn't even expect to see him again for the rest of her life. But as luck, or fate, would have it, she looked up from her mortar full of half grounded elfroot as her mother greeted his rather familiar smirking self. Unable to help herself, a smile spread across her features. "Just when I was thinking I'd never see you again."<p>

"Our last parting ended on such friendly terms that I simply had to see you again, my lady," he replied, bowing slightly at the waist once more.

Kit stood, placing the stone bowl on the table before setting her hands on said table and leaning forward. "How you even found me is something to marvel at," she said, wondering the same statement herself.

"One can simply follow their nose to find you," he charmed, tapping his nose for emphasis.

"So you're saying that I smell horrible enough for anyone to find me?"

He laughed, scratching the back of his head. _Nervous, are we?_ Kit couldn't help but think to herself. "Let me try that again," he requested, his arm falling back to his side.

"Please do," Kit insisted, crossing her arms but keeping a teasing smile on her face. "Though I don't see how you can redeem yourself after saying I was smelly enough for you to easily find."

"You won't make this easy for me, will you?"

Kit shook her head, then finally gave in and laughed. As she did, her mother finally spoke. "You seem to know him well, sweet."

"'Sweet' is it?" the man interrupted. "If that's so, then I will be sure to call you by that wonderful name until my dying breath."

Kit covered her face as it flushed red with embarrassment. That was the last thing she needed from a guy she just met. "We just met two days ago," she informed her mother, "and my name is Kit," she introduced herself.

"Catherine," her mother felt the need to correct.

"Mom! Catherine makes me sound old, like I should be quilting from my front porch and shaking my fist at small children." Seeing her mother's arched brow took a bit of the wind out of her sails.

"And what does that make me, I wonder?" she chided, before facing the man. "A pleasure to meet you..."

"Daveth," the man stated, grinning wide after witnessing the interaction between mother and daughter.

"Daveth, then. I'll let you visit with my daughter, so long as you don't distract her too much or block any customers... or cause her to disappear for the rest of the afternoon," she finished, showing her irritation with Kit for her prolonged absence.

He nodded, stepping off to the side. Kit picked up her mortar once more, biting her lower lip before sitting on the small stool she used before. "So, how can I help you?" Kit finally asked, getting to the point.

"One simply can't enjoy the nice day, and visit with other fellow citizens?"

"Is this before or after you rob them-"

"I will admit, we may have started our relationship on the wrong foot. However, I found myself too curious about you to stay away," Daveth stated. At her arch stare, he added, "It's true. First, you save me from a rather horrible fate from the guards-"

"Which is still a one-time occurrence," she interrupted.

"- And shortly after that, you chase me down and... talk me out of our trade, so to speak."

"Which had better not happen anymore," she warned.

He held his hands up in a halting motion. "No need; I know you would simply ghost yourself to me again." He watched her grind the elfroot for a few moments before adding, "Which reminds me... how did you do that?"

"I thought I explained this before, Daveth. A woman simply doesn't give away her most precious secrets on a whim, especially when charming men ask for them."

Blinking in surprise, he asked, "'Charming', is it?"

"No. I'm simply showing you how to best compliment someone, Daveth."

"Ooh, that stung my pride a little," he teased, staggering a step back with his hand over his heart. Straightening once more as she softly chuckled, he insisted. "A boon for a boon, then?" He waited a beat, enough to perk her interest, before saying, "Name your price, and I will meet it, so long as I am taught your big secret."

The biggest secret Kit had was something she'd never give to strange men she just met, even if she was paid. Still, her hands slowed. "That's a dangerous thing to say to someone you just met," she repeated back to him. "I could ask for anything, you know."

"And what could the worst of it be? Money... all the items in my possession, including my best blade..." Seeing no other change in her, he suggested, "A warm bed, perhaps?"

She stilled, and he could barely catch her fingers tightening on her tools. "Leave," her hardened voice shot out, her hands returning to work with a renewed fervor that left Daveth wondering if she would break the pestle.

"I admit, I may have gone too far-"

"There's no guessing about it," Kit interrupted, glaring at Daveth. "If that's all you're going to offer me, then I have nothing to teach you."

He considered her for a moment, before kneeling in front of her, placing his hands over hers. "Kit-"

"I really will hit you if you don't leave," she warned.

"Hear me out," he beseeched her, relaxing as she abandoned her work once more, crossing her arms. _Note to self, stop offering the women outside of brothels yourself as a form of entertainment... at least, in the market district._ "Since you don't seem like the person that would be paid to help a poor soul, I have nothing else to offer but my skills."

"Would you like to be hit over the head with my pestle, or my mortar?"

"Woman, will you settle down?" he exasperatedly asked. "I don't mean _those_ skills." When she stilled enough for him to safely continue, he said, "I meant with your blades. Or your bow, if that is what you prefer to use."

"My blades?" she repeated.

"Yes."

"You mean..." After quickly looking around them, she leaned in and whispered, "Fighting?"

He paused at this. She must surely have _some_ skill to be able to do what she did. Yet now, with her confused eyes and her now overwhelming need for secrecy, it was telling him she had none at all. "I do mean that, yes... Anything you don't know, I will teach you."

She looked down to her lap, puttering with the pestle before admitting, "I... don't know anything."

Daveth considered her as she insisted on looking down at her lap. "You mean to tell me that you make deliveries into numerous, unsavory parts of Denerim with no skills in defending yourself whatsoever?" As she shook her head no, he tsked at her. "Then forget all I've just said. I'll teach you what I know- no questions, no boons in return, or any other form of payment."

Kit finally met his gaze. "You mean you'll just teach me?"

"Must I repeat myself?"

"Why would you?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well," she listed, ticking off her fingers. "I don't have enough money to pay you, I have no other skills to benefit you-"

"Save your stealth," he added, trying to figure her out. "You must have had someone teach you how to sneak up on foes."

Huffing in annoyance at being interrupted, she explained, "That bit's self taught."

"I find that hard to believe."

"You'd be surprised what women can discover when left under their own care. Back to my point, I have absolutely nothing to offer, willing or otherwise. Nothing comes for free, you know."

After pausing over the 'or otherwise' part of that sentence (really, what kind of man did she take him for?), he explained his reasoning. "I understand a need to survive in a place like this," Daveth repeated to her. "You could have turned me in after catching me, but you didn't. You could have killed me when I was pinned and at your mercy with my dagger in your hand, but you didn't. You could have even ignored me and let me go on my way without hiding me in the cart, but you didn't."

"So, what are you saying? You'll help me... because you owe me?"

"I'll help you, because I'd hate to see you slain while knowing I could have done something to prevent it from happening. In fact, I'd hate to see you slain at all. You really are a gracious and attractive lady," he replied, adding a bit of sugar to the end of his plea.

Kit smirked. "And when I thought there was no hope, I see you really are a charmer."

"I do try," Daveth explained, smiling openly. As she relaxed into an easy smile once more, he promised, "I swear to you that it won't be easy, but I also swear I will do my best to help you."

Kit sighed. The offer really was tempting; a chance to finally give her the extra strength she needs to defend herself and her family from the cruel man ruling their household? It seemed this offer was tailor made for her, and being offered to her for free. On the other hand... if said head of household ever caught wind of her new activities, it could spell out trouble for her, or her mother, or sisters... "Daveth... I-"

"Tell me you'll think about," he insisted, seeing her hesitation.

After a moment, she nodded. Of course she'd be thinking about it. She'd think it to death before the day even ended.

"In the meantime, if you do say 'yes', then you can find me outside of the Wonders of Thedas by moonrise." He gently grasped her hand and raised it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles. "A pleasure to meet you, Kit," he said, before turning and making his way through the crowd.

Kit watched him go, lightly rubbing her kissed knuckles and hoping her hands weren't shaking. He really had no idea what he had just offered her, and knowing herself as well as she did, he'd never find out for fear of repercussions. Saying yes to him would be a risk to not only her, but the same family she'd be wanting to protect. Saying no would sentence her to live the same existence she's been living for so long, but now with the knowledge that she could have done something about it. Releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding, she resumed her previous work.

"So, this Daveth fellow," her mother started.

Kit looked over her shoulder. "Aye... what about him?"

"He seems nice."

"... Indeed he does."

"Quite the handsome fellow, too."

Kit thought back to his friendly smirk, his dark brown eyes and hair... that roguish stubble... the way his lips felt on her hand... She snapped herself out of the daydream, resuming her work once more.

"And he certainly seems to know you well enough to openly court you."

The grinding of stone on stone slowly stopped. Wide eyed, Kit turned more fully to face her mother. "What are you saying?"

In a smug tone, her mother replied, "What, a mother can't be happy to see her daughter becoming a woman?"

"But- but you- you think- b-but he- and I?" As her mother laughed over Kit's flustered words, she insisted. "Moo-ooom! No!"

Her mother embraced her, shushing further protests through her laughter. "I didn't mean to tease you, or start anything you aren't ready for."

"Good; I was starting to wonder if you were planning on marrying me off."

The older woman chuckled, releasing her and fussing with her daughter's hair, the caring mother showing through. "No, no... I just simply haven't seen you so relaxed in a long time." Kneeling down, she searched Kit's face for some hidden answer, her hands sliding to rest under her daughter's jaw. "I haven't seen you truly smile in a long time... not like you did with him."

Kit bit down on her lower lip, which had really become a habit for her to keep instead of blurting things out, and nodded slightly. She could just about feel her insides burn from holding this back for so long...

Her mother leaned in and placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead, before accepting the finished poultice. As she turned away, Kit rested her arms on her knees, biting down that much harder on her lip. She was quickly immersed in her own thoughts, words, choices, and outcomes swirling around each other. "Mom," she said, straightening up.

"Yes?" she asked, turning around.

Kit rose from the stool, stepped closer, and felt her stomach drop closer to the ground with each movement. After a long pause, she hugged her mother close, and simply held her. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you as well," her mother replied. After a brief pause, she held her daughter at arm's length, looking once more at her face. "What brought this about?"

Kit took a deep breath, then shook her head. "Nothing," she replied, managing a half smile.

_Nothing you can ever find out..._


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: Woo-hoo, chapter 4 with exciting news! For those that have followed me thus far, I've added in the summary that my story is/will now be technically an AU story. I simply couldn't help myself, but the sudden arrival of plot bunnies on my doorstep drove me to this. I tried resisting, then they turned their Puss N' Boots-esque eyes on me and I knew I was lost._

_Need I mention who owns Dragon Age? Besides not me? *sobs on Bioware logo*_

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><p>It was late at night, with the moon just clearing the line of the buildings of Denerim. The streets were rolled up for the night, stray beggars and thieves dotting barely lit corners, the same number of guards patrolling. And somewhere amongst the city was a man waiting for an answer...<p>

Kit flopped onto her back, giving up on trying to sleep after the latest attempt of putting Daveth out of her mind. She had alternated between accepting his proposal and ignoring it, between cursing the sudden appearance of him in her life and idly thinking of his kissing her hand. Maker knew she was trying, she really was, but did it have to be so hard? Sitting up, Kit raked her hands through her hair, struggling to put her frustration behind her. She made tough decisions before, and she liked to think the critical thinker was still there to help her out...

But this time, a lot more was at stake. A lot more could go wrong if it wound up not working the way she expected.

_Could it?_

The little question snaked into her thoughts, halting all else in its tracks. Keeping secrets from her mother was tough, but keeping secrets from him... that wasn't as heartbreaking as the former. Sure, she'd learn to fight, her skill around a dagger, and explain to the only person that mattered that she was learning to defend herself- which was true. Her mother would believe it, her only daughter wanting to stay alive and safe while working.

Her father wouldn't need to know anything about Kit's personal activities, as long as she made herself available when she was requested. It would even be preferable, let him think that she's still as weak and defenseless as she was before. She didn't want to stay under his thumb forever, after all, but merely long enough until her sisters could fend for themselves. They did know that he was a bad man, but not the extent of how true the statement was.

It could work out for them as well, if Kit manages to pass her teachings onto them, once they grew old enough...

And just like that, the answer was amazingly simple.

She silently crept out of bed and into her previously worn clothes, listening hard for any movement that wasn't the norm of sleeping people. A brief debate came up to check on her sisters before leaving, but it was quickly dismissed. He always enjoyed his sleep, leaving all his daughters alone then, not to mention it would waste valuable time. Still, she couldn't resist a quick prayer for their safety as she opened her bedroom window.

There was a reason why Kit had started navigating the city streets and committing them to memory, and it wasn't just for the ability to chase down random thieves. Night was different than daytime in a few ways, but given the objective presented to Kit, sticking to her rooftop playground would get her past the worst of the obstacles. In all cases, it gave her the needed advantage over her 'foes'. The finger hold crafted into the stone sill outside of her bedroom window was the first thing she had done in establishing said advantage, even though it took a long time with tools made for crafting wooden creations.

She hastily donned her cloak and rearranged her bed to make it appear someone was still in it before nimbly perching herself on the sill. Keeping one hand in her safety hold, she reached back in and slowly drew the window back to a more believable spot. As it was, the cold air rushing up the side of the building and billowing under her cloak made a chill race up her back. She looked down to the street, and saw no one. _Perfect_...

Light readjustments to her feet shifted her closer to the corner of the stone sill, while hiking up her skirt freed leg mobility. Her hold secured on the crevice, she calmed her breathing. Just like it had been done before... she could do this. Her gaze raised to the target ledge, and she pulled up with her hands, pushed up with her feet, and grabbed onto the roof. She couldn't settle on letting herself hang, already afraid of her hands slipping from the edge, so she started swinging her legs to gain momentum. Her foot gained a hold, quickly becoming the rest of her leg, with an arm joining, the rest of her body being hoisted up.

Once she was safely on the roof, she took the time to catch her breath before starting on her way.

o0o0o

Waiting just outside of the light illuminating the Wonders of Thedas sign, Daveth waited for any sign of Kit's arrival, fighting off shivering from the cold. What possessed him to suggest meeting on colder nights out in the open was beyond him now, when before it had seemed like a great idea to gain trust.

He had no idea what to make of this strange girl. She was open and friendly when relaxed, but remained an open book all the time, not hiding her emotions. He had learned from their two interactions alone that she grew cocky after gaining the upper hand, could feel for people in situations close to her own, and had a dislike towards compliments to herself. Every woman appreciated flattery now and again, yet her insisting on the extremely shortened, almost child-like nickname in favor of the more elegant one, especially at an age where settling into becoming a wife was a top priority...

Plus, there was her indecision of his offer. What it was centered on, he had no idea, but it spoke in higher volumes than being safe while-

Sudden footfalls to his left sprung him into action, unsheathing both daggers and pouncing on said disturbance, a small human form that started to struggle away, falling still as they felt the blade against their neck. There they paused, hunter and prey on the edge a single wrist movement ending it all.

"Daveth, it's me," the form whispered, voice sounding purely feminine.

He pulled back her hood, revealing half her face to the torch's light before his body relaxed, pulling his dagger away from her neck. "I could have killed you," he softly admonished, standing behind her.

"If I knew to expect so warm a reception, I would have brought a gift with me. I'll have to remember for next time," she replied, standing and facing him.

Sarcasm, in the face of death? Oh, he liked this one. "You came."

"I did." She busied herself with brushing off her skirt, which without the cover of shadow and a damnable cloak would have given him a bit of a peep show.

_Focus, Daveth._ "I was wondering if you really would show. What made you decide?"

Kit smirked, straightening from her task. "You know that silly thing I keep telling you, about how women never give away their secrets?" Spreading her arms wide, she added, "In any case, I'm here and I'm ready to be taught. Where are we starting?"

He considered her and her statements, before handing over one of his daggers hilt first. He wouldn't have started her out with one right away, but considering he had no other alternative, it would have to do. Watching her hold it, examining the wear under her fingers before shifting it to match his normal grip, made his previous thoughts start whirling around again. Just who was he handing a blade to?

o0o0o

_6 months before Ostagar_

In an abandoned warehouse, two figures were circling each other, a blade in each hand. Kit lightly batted at the bead of sweat tickling itself too close to her lip, not taking her eyes off Daveth. She was also resisting the urge to pull her damp shirt off her back, all the while thankful she wasn't in a skirt anymore-

_No Kit, stop thinking!_ He was in his battling mode, his footing light and his gaze intensely on her, just waiting for someone to strike. His other hand was set up as a guard, set just behind his blade hand in a semblance to the position of his body. He had explained to her that it made direct opponents harder to strike at her, since she was then creating a smaller target for them.

After falling into that habit, she was then told to watch her opponent for weaknesses, whether it was gaps in armor, limbs being favored, or certain tactics they tended to stick with. So far, she thought she was doing good, until it came to doing so during combat. He wasn't kidding her when he said it wasn't going to be easy.

Her legs tensed before she sprung forward, slashing down and to the left. He took the moment to grab her blade hand and strike with his own. She saw it coming (since she had made the same mistake before) and ducked away while grabbing his own. While she was trying to wrestle her own weapon free, he kicked her legs out from under her, sending her to the floor. She grunted as she hit the floor before quickly starting to roll away from him, scrambling into a stand and just barely blocking the blade from striking her. Before she could grab onto it, he darted away nimbly. Gritting her teeth, she chased after him, crashing into him as he suddenly stopped and nudged his elbow into her stomach. It wasn't enough to seriously injure her, but it still hurt!

He swung around, bringing his arm across with the blade flat against it. Both were pressed to her neck as she straightened. "You're dead," he stated, smirking as she cursed and retook her starting position. "You were good, you got up before I reached you."

"Not good enough, because I'm still dead twenty times over," she panted.

"Fair deal. Again?"

Just as he finished speaking, she darted forward, intent on a short incapacitating jab. He just barely twisted to the side, grabbing her blade hand and using their momentum to carry her off her feet and onto the ground once more. He started moving closer to make the final blow, only to be stopped and pushed back with her feet. While it was good at getting him away, she forgot to take into account that he had a hold on her weapon, which went with him as he was pushed away. "Damn," she cursed as she realized this.

"Well, you're weaponless, so you may as well be dead," he said, rolling himself up to a stand. He watched as Kit smacked the floor with an open palm as she stood, biting her lower lip. _And she's angry. Looks like the lesson's almost over... again._

For the past two months, he had been trying to get her to clear her mind before fighting, but she somehow always kept insisting on using it as part of her fighting style. Which could be fine for her, if she wanted to be a shield-and-sword warrior... and a very poor one at that. He had thought that it would take two, maybe three weeks at the most, to work that way of thinking out of her system, but he was fighting an uphill battle for more than twice as long. It was enough to make him frustrated as well.

Instead of handing the dagger back to her, he slid them both into their sheaths, which were set off to the side before their lesson started. Kit glared, releasing her lower lip to speak. "The lesson's not over," she told him firmly.

"Glad to know."

"Give me the dagger."

"I'm giving you a break."

Instead of taking the time to rest, she chose to angrily pace. He let her go, watching her movements as he took a drink from his skin of ale. It would be amusing to see if this was a different situation. Her intent was there, he never had a doubt of that, but she kept getting in the way of herself. She was also pushing for nightly practices, because she could see she was making very little progress, but couldn't fully understand why, and thought that more practice was the key.

"Do you know what it means to be a rogue?" he suddenly asked.

"What are you talking about?" she muttered, not breaking from her pacing.

"You say you want to fight like I do, then rush at me like a guardsman would. I tell you to clear your mind and not let your thoughts distract you-"

"Which I've been doing," she protested, facing him with clenched fists at her side.

"Then explain this," he said, gesturing around her with an open hand. "This angry pacing, like you're a caged animal, just waiting to be let out... and that thing you do when you bite your lower lip."

She forced her lower lip out from in between her teeth and resumed her pacing, hating that he was right.

"These are all things that can be used against you, but only if you let yourself get in the way." Standing from the table, he stopped her in mid-stride, holding out the ale to her. "Sit down, relax, and have a drink."

Feeling for all the world like a pouting toddler not getting her way, she accepted the drink and headed over to the table. "What am I doing wrong?" she asked him, pulling herself onto the table. "I really do clear my mind before we begin, and I've been picking up on some of your cues..."

Only his really obvious ones, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that. "It could be the personal grudge you've been holding since we started," he suggested. As she looked at him in confusion, he continued. "The longer we go, and the more I outmaneuver you... yes, you get determined at first, but then you get frustrated and angry. Once we reach that point, you're looking at me, but you're not really _seeing_ me there.

"Yet, the part that really frustrates me about all this," he said, taking a seat next to her, "is that when it finally seems like we're making good progress, something happens, and we're right back where we started."

_Yeah, it's called 'laundry day'._ Kit bit her lower lip, before realizing what she was doing and forcing herself to stop. She instead took a drink of ale, passing it back to Daveth once she finished.

"Here's what I've learned from personal experience," he started, setting the skin off to the side.

"Personal experience, you say?" Kit asked in a teasing tone.

"Why, yes. I'm truly an adventurous man, and have seen it all." Seeing a hint of a smile on her face fanned the flames of hope once more, making him press on with his point. "Soldiers, guardsmen, knights, anyone with heavy armor on their side, fight like you're trying to do: rush forward with all their strength, intent on defeating the enemy by relying on themselves. Rogues, on the other hand, are the ones behind the warrior's foe, sinking our blades into gaps in their armor, and weakening them as much as possible. Where the soldier relies on their own strength, we rely on the enemy's weaknesses."

"So, me getting angry isn't helping..."

"Exactly. Your own hate is clouding you from seeing what you need to see." He wrapped an encouraging arm around her shoulders, ignoring her momentary stiffening as part of her normal behavior, and said, "What you really need to do is not think angry, but think dirty." Catching her fist before it could connect with his stomach, he explained. "Rogues fight dirty. We do what we have to to gain the advantage."

"Oh... sorry," she replied, pulling her now relaxed hand away.

"Or you could lure your enemy into talking about women in a bad light, and beat them to the Black City and back." As Kit, thankfully, snorted with amusement, he headed back over to the blades and withdrew them. "One more round, and this time, expand your horizons. Don't worry if I'm off-balance, don't rely on just your strength, and don't attack first. They'll come to you, trust me; if not, then they're giving you an open opportunity to sneak up to them."

She nimbly hopped from the table, accepting the blade from Daveth as she passed, not putting her back to him. He tricked her like that already, a mistake she wouldn't let happen again.

They both fell into their fighting stances, circling around each other once more. Every time instinct told her to try and hit him already, she bit her lip and forced it back. Patience had to be her key now... As a test, she faked him out, smiling as she saw his arm flinch into a defensive posture. He faked her out in return, which prompted her into a striking of blades, before darting back into circling. And so they went, back and forth, testing for holes in defense and strengths in attack.

She finally broke the pattern by darting forward, making an assortment of quick jabs and working him backwards, dodging his blade from trying to force her back. One of her strikes was caught with both hands and forced back in her direction, stopped by her own free hand. There they struggled in a reverse tug-of-war battle. "Kit, don't attack," he grunted. "You have to-"

A very strong kick between his legs loosened his grip on everything, focusing on the horrible pain suddenly emanating from his now tender crotch. She tapped her blade to his neck, before dancing away cheerfully.

"I won! I won, I won, I won, you're so dead, you're... Maker's breath, are you okay, Daveth?" she asked, stopping her celebration and rushing back to his aid when she saw her friend not bouncing back as quickly.

"Oh, I'm fine," he replied through gritted teeth, kneeling in pain. "I may not be a father for a long time... but you did good."

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, horrified that she actually intentionally hurt someone close to her.

"No, it's fine..." He straightened enough to look at her, saying, "Keep what you just did in mind... and promise to never do that to me again..."


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Woo, chapter 5! Since I never thought I'd make it this far in a story like this, there're some people I'd like to thank: artemis7337, Dieddarker, Eve Hawk, Jaden Anderson, LittleRobinForever, and Morninglight, you guys mean the world to me for reading/subscribing/commenting/writing wonderful works of your own with which to distract and inspire me. And I'd also like to say, to those silent readers: 'sup, homeslices? xD_

_Here's to another five (nay, much more than that!) chapters! Like before, Bioware owns everything but Kit and her origin story... which is mine, I tell you! Mine! Muahahahahahahahaha!_

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><p><em>3 months before Ostagar<em>

Kit's meeting up at the abandoned warehouse tonight was a double-edged sword; she had taken what she had learned from all the times of watching Daveth pick the lock to the door and had managed to accomplish it herself (granted, it took considerably more time that he did it, but she still broke in without breaking anything!), and yet, she was now waiting for him to show. She was now rapidly finding out how much of an impatient person she actually was. Blowing a huff of breath through her mouth, she tapped the flat of the blade of her practice dagger against her jerkin-covered leg, watching the door.

There was only one lantern lit, casting more shadows than it did light. It wasn't for any reason other than saving enough money to buy oil should it be needed, since risk of discovery wasn't likely due to a lack of windows. She had used the lantern to check the numerous shadows after some time to see if he had shown up beforehand and was just sneaking up on her, to produce negative results. What was keeping him? It wasn't like him to be this late...

Maybe he forgot?

Or was detained...?

Ignoring the numerous bad situations as they popped up, she picked up the lantern once more, intent on expanding her search. As it turned out, she didn't have to go far, as the door slowly opened once she drew close, revealing a stooped over figure...

"Daveth?" she asked, seeing the familiar brown locks.

He looked up to see her, then let out a grateful sigh. "I hoped that you were here."

Kit's eyes widened as he looked at his face: a split lip and a purpling cheek marred his face, with a sizable goose egg starting to swell on his forehead. She set the lantern down on a nearby chest and slid the dagger into the back of her jerkins. Stepping closer, she ushered him further in, quietly shut the door behind them, and slung an arm around her shoulders, helping him walk to her previous spot in the corner.

Setting a hand on his midsection to help him onto the table prompted an inhaled hiss from Daveth. "Easy on the ribs, love."

She laughed softly. "Even hit over the head as you are, you insist on calling me 'love'." She winced to herself, hearing laughter around a groan as he finally sat. "What happened to you?"

"I ran into some trouble on the way here. Not from any guards, no, just desperate people."

Studying him closely, she determined he'd be safe enough for now. "I'll get a poultice from our stand and be right back-"

"No need," he interrupted her, producing a small jar from the inside of his shirt. "Managed to swipe this from one of them before I escaped."

Kit shook her head at him, taking the poultice. "You're unbelievable," she chided him, starting to smile as well. "This may not be enough to cover your ribs."

"Luckily for us that they're only bruised, then. They certainly don't hurt like they're broken."

Once again, she winced, nearly feeling a bit of sympathy pain in her own side after hearing that. She also felt guilty over not teaching him about her rooftop travels by now. Since he hadn't pressed after the beginning of her lessons, she had forgotten about it, save to travel to and from the warehouse. If he had known, this could have been avoided...

"Kit, I'm fine," Daveth spoke, interrupting her thoughts. "Don't feel bad that it happened. This is Denerim, after all. There's only so much people can do before getting desperate."

Scooping a dab of poultice, she answered. "I know. I just wish I could have done something about it." She figured that she could tell him tonight... As gently as she could, she smeared a layering of the poultice on his forehead. Save for the occasional wince and facial twitch, he sat still and let her tend to his wounds. All was quiet as she finished with his forehead, moving onto his cheek.

"How long have you lived here?" Kit asked, feeling that the silence was growing uncomfortable.

Daveth smiled, glad she broke the silence first. "Six years. You?"

"My whole life."

He considered that surprising bit of information. "After this long for the both of us, how have we not managed to meet sooner?"

She arched a brow at him. "Oh yes, how the merchant's daughter and the pickpocket never managed to meet before is a mystery that will last the ages. Drunken, down-on-their-luck bards will sing of our tragic story for many weak ales to come."

"Such words you use could viciously wound a man's pride if you're not careful," he answered with a smirk.

With a snort, she said, "You say that like I would want to go out of my way to impress a man."

"Do you?"

Kit paused with the gentle question. Her, impress a man? Try to woo him? Court him, even? She had never considered the option, what with her pressing issues with her father, thinking that if things moved too fast, then conditions would change... She deftly avoided answering by scooping out more poultice and applying to the growing bruises on his ribcage, lifting his shirt out of the way to do so.

Once again, the both of them fell into a growing silence. She would give anything in the world to know what he was thinking in that moment. She tried to focus on what she was doing, but the growing thoughts his question raised kept distracting her. What would it be like to be in a lasting relationship, to go to your bed knowing someone was waiting to share it with you? How did it feel to be touched by someone that didn't want to take from you, but by someone that wanted to give?

And why was she thinking of fairy tale endings now? She had long ago accepted that she would have to make her own, that no knight in shining armor would come swooping in to rescue her from a terrible existence, and set her life straight with a simple snap of his fingers. Men like that never existed, not for someone like her.

Seeing her work finished, she stood up straight. "All set there, and now for your-"

Lips.

The feel of lips on hers shocked her into silence.

Daveth was watching her through slightly hooded eyes as he kissed her, watched as hers widened with surprise, felt her mouth mimic his oh so softly, because she had no idea what she was doing, but for seeing others kiss each other in the square. They both pulled apart with a gentle smacking sound, and continued to stare at each other.

As if she needed anything else to keep her awake during long nights. It was no strange fact for her to see that Daveth was a good-looking man, not overly muscular but still lithe and strong in a way unique to rogues. It wouldn't be too much of a hardship to have him hold her, if she could get over her instilled nerves and allow herself to be touched. But what she had just felt, being kissed like that...

Like what? She had nothing else to compare it to, really. Soft and guarded, conscious of her usual reactions to his closeness, yet still sweet enough for potential prompting of continuance, and a slight tang of blood from her licking her lower lip. It was... "Daveth..."

"I was too forward, wasn't I? My ma always did say that I had to treat women right." Leaning back on his arms, he said, "I'm sorry, and I won't kiss you like that again."

Kit could feel her heart in her throat as he talked, and had to swallow before she replied. "... Even if I asked you to?"

He paused himself, still watching her in that intent way of his. "Now, that's different." He pushed himself back up, sliding off the table he sat on, but advancing no further. She forced herself not to retreat, but to keep her breathing even and try her hardest not to hyperventilate. He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, following the line down across her jaw, tilting her head up to him. His mouth lowered, closer and closer to hers, until his was gently brushing against hers. Her breath caught as his warmed her lower face, their foreheads resting together. She could feel the edges of the now sticky poultice against her skin, making her smile.

If there ever was a moment that was purely Daveth, it was this.

Closing her eyes, she tilted her face up, fitting their mouths together like puzzle pieces. She mimicked Daveth's previous motions, feeling him respond in kind. His fingertips lightly traced down her arms, taking her hands and setting them on the top of his chest, her fingers just barely reaching his shoulders. There he held them, held her, and there they continued to kiss.

Much unlike the fables she told her sisters, there was no overwhelming feeling of love or desire, of lightheadedness, of seeing fireworks behind her eyes, nothing of the sort. She would, however, be hard pressed to lie and say that she felt nothing. Feelings were awakened in her, yes, but it was a sense of security, of trust. He flirted a lot with her, both verbally and physically, but never pressed her further when she told him where to stop. Somehow, she just knew that this would be the same way.

Their kiss ended mutually, her eyes blinking open and meeting his. His eyes opened at the same time, before regarding her curiously. "Was that your first kiss?"

"No." He reared his head back in question, before she pointed out, "The one you gave me back on the table before this one was my first."

"You are a truly confusing woman, Kit."

"I'll take that as a compliment." She turned her hands over under his, matching palms together, before asking, "Can I show you something? If you're up for a climb, that is."

"Did I just not finish saying how confusing you are? You get kissed by an amazingly handsome fellow, not to be too proud of myself, and all of a sudden you want to climb things?"

She smiled at his teasing words, sliding her hands out from under his. "And was it not just months ago when you were pressing me for 'my secret' of how I got to you so fast?" Leaving her words at that, she walked over to the lantern, preparing to extinguish it... and hearing Daveth start to follow her.

"If I had known before that a kiss or two could unlock that secret, I would have done so long before today."

"That's thrice now, we've established how confusing I truly am."

He chuckled in the sudden darkness, following her footsteps out the door and into the night. From there, and the half moon, he could easily make out her shape as she led him across the way and in between buildings, where a ladder was propped up the side of the building. She climbed up it, casting him a backwards glance to see if he was following, before reaching the roof. As he stepped off the ladder and joined her, she spread her arms out, gesturing grandly to their surroundings. "This is it."

Daveth looked around, finding nothing different. "I don't see anything."

Kit crossed her arms. "Then look down."

"To my feet, or to the street?"

She rolled her eyes before explaining. "My secret of how I caught up to you was simply running across the rooftops. Granted, the one from here to the warehouse wouldn't be possible, but if you're careful, you can reach it," she spun around in a half circle, pointing out the trail, "by circling around like that."

He stepped closer as she pointed it out, suddenly seeing what she was talking about. It could cut down a lot of time of having to navigate through people, sneak past guards that had a particular eye on you, and avoid the more unsavory folk trying to get ahead. "You found this?"

"And created parts of it, yes." Folding her arms, she stated, "Those that truly think they're above the rest never think of looking up."

He cast a look at her, to find her looking outwards into the night. "So, you've found yourself some trouble, I take it?"

"Something like that."

o0o0o

Kit had spent the rest of the night simply talking to Daveth, insisting that he get the rest he needed to heal his bruised ribs, so they could teach each other in optimal comfort. She told him of sneaking strong enough, unused bits of wood from her father's shop to help construct her 'playground', which led to him telling her of running from his pa as soon as he was able to not be caught, which led to her telling him of her younger sisters and how they keep her from doing the same. He smiled at the appropriate moments, easily commented when prompted to, but that questioning look never left his face. He wanted to know how her traversing above the city ground started, which was never something she'd tell him.

She could trust him with it, just barely, but she'd sooner not drag him into the mess, half afraid that something would happen to him after learning. It all boiled down to her father finding out, which she wouldn't readily tell him, but paranoia runs deep.

She had followed safely above him as he made it back to his living space, the building not having any capabilities of roof access just yet. Kit could fix that, though. After making guesstimated measurements from her perch once Daveth safely entered his home, she started heading back her own way home. She was sure there was a ladder or two that had been abandoned, but should be sturdy enough for momentary usage, until the two of them were able to figure out how to go without. She had left hers propped up on the neighboring building, after all, for entry back into her house and, at the very least, for emergency.

Those thoughts carried her back to her own house, sneaking back into her own room and shutting the window behind her. She took a deep cleansing breath, forcing her body to stay relaxed. Her cloak slid off of her shoulders and draped across the lone chair in her room-

Rough hands fell on her shoulders, whipping her around with a gasp. One hand closed on her throat, cutting off further air. "Who've you been sneaking out t' see?" her father's voice, laden with whiskey, hissed at her. Shaking her roughly, he insisted, "Who?"

Strangled sounds tore from her, and she set to work on trying to pry his fingers loose from her neck. She didn't get too far as he roughly pulled her away from the window, pinning her down onto her bed. Her jerkins and smalls were yanked off, fabric tearing in his desperation. His hand pressed harder down on her throat as he worked to free himself one-handed.

She desperately tried clawing at his hand, her nails not long enough to make any lasting damage. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see, but knew with her heart what was coming. None of those things prepared her for the immense pain she felt as his hips settled a majority of his weight on hers, keeping her legs forced apart as he brutally raped her. Her back and head arched back, mouth open in a silent scream she wanted so badly to make; he only thrust into her harder, holding onto his captor and her bed for better leverage.

Her attempts to fight him off grew sluggish, and eventually stopped as she fell limp, sharp pain radiating through her body. The last thing she heard was a soft grunt in her ear...


	6. Chapter 6

Hands were gently smoothing hair away from her face. A dull fire was burning in her lower stomach, and it hurt to breathe. The pain increased in her throat as she swallowed. Everything slammed into Kit at once, making her jerk up into a sitting position before gasping and falling back with a breathy groan. The pain sharpened cruelly inside of her, stinging tears brimming her eyes at the sensation.

"Shhh," her mother crooned, gently holding her back from rising once more. "Try not to move, sweet."

Blinking away the watery layer from her vision, Kit attempted to speak, and managed a hoarse, "Mommy..."

It broke her mother's heart to hear that, which prompted her into holding her daughter close, shushing her again. "I'm here, it's going to be alright," she comforted.

"What... what happened?" Kit whispered.

"I should ask you the same thing," she admonished Kit, before continuing. "Your father found you this morning, when he didn't see you take the girls to the Chantry. When he tried waking you and saw your injuries, he came to get me."

At the first mentioning of her father, her eyes flit past her mother, to the doorway he was presently looming in, his arms crossed. His face showed no emotion... at least, none that she could tell was there.

Maker, how she hated subtlety.

"Grace... Rose..."

"They're in their room. They both were in bed with you when I got here, and told them to leave." Kit's hair continued to be petted reassuringly as her mother continued. "I didn't think you'd want them to see you like this."

"Who did this to you?" her father spoke, not moving anything.

Kit knew he was challenging her, she just knew it. Asserting his dominance over her by using fear of discovery and the consequences behind it was something he did before, when he first took her. He wasn't any gentler than normal her first time; she thought that was pain.

Despite herself and her wanting to be strong in the face of her enemy, she burst into tears. Her face also flamed with the embarrassment of it all.

Her mother crooned softly, pulling herself close to Kit again. "Poor thing, this must be so hard for you." She simply held her eldest, gently rocking her like she would when Kit was younger until her tears slowed. "Catherine, I'm going to be gone-"

"No! No, Mom, please-" Kit desperately interrupted, holding tighter onto her mom's sleeves.

"I'll be back," she reassured Kit, grasping her hands gently. "I'm just going back to close up for the rest of the day, and see if I can find something to ease your pain. I promise I'll be as quick as I can. Your father will be nearby, in case you need something."

Kit let her hands be detangled, starting to feel resigned to being left behind... with him... She nodded, hoping that he would at least show compassion and leave her alone, just this once. Given her kind of luck, it wasn't going to happen.

"I love you, sweet."

"I love you too, Mom."

She nodded in satisfaction, kissing Kit's forehead before standing. As she brushed past her husband, she snuck a kiss onto his cheek. As per his usual stoic self, his cheek twitched, not moving from his watchful perch. If only she could be this composed.

Tears started to slowly trickle down her cheeks as she descended the stairs. Her heart had leapt up into her throat after first hearing the news, only to feel it plummet and shatter after seeing the proof: Kit, curled up into a tight ball, half covered with blankets, dark bruising marring her... She simply wanted to scream to the heavens of the injustice that happened to one of her own.

And to think that she was implying to hide the pain of such an act, to shoulder it by herself! What would possess her strong girl to hide such a thing? The door to the wood shop closed behind her, prompting her to compose herself. Crying about it wasn't going to help Kit any faster than hastened steps would. She took a deep breath, held it, then slowly released it as she set out on her mission.

A vaguely familiar form waiting patiently at her stand was what first greeted her. "I apologize, ser, but I'm closing," she informed him, stepping around him. She looked up to his face, and paused. There was a bruise on his cheek and forehead, the latter coupled with a goose egg, and a split in his lip. All of them were sticky from drying salve and in the process of healing, but seeing this paired with the sight of Kit, knowing how spirited she could be when it came to something she disagreed with...

"I wasn't wanting to buy anything, ma'am," he corrected, a natural, crooked smile spreading. "I simply wanted to visit with Kit- er, Catherine, today."

Her eyes narrowed, hinting a bit of menace, as she casually folded her arms. "Was the previous night not enough for you?"

The tiny hairs on the back of Daveth's neck rose as he got the distinct feeling that came with the thought of traveling through the Kocari Wilds by himself with nothing but a stick to fend for himself. The idea of that situation being slightly more appealing was entertained as he replied. "I'm not sure I understand what you're saying..."

"Did she do this?" her mother asked, gesturing to his face.

"What, give me these? No... she did tend to them, if you want me to be honest- which given how furious you look right now, you'd prefer it, but no. Just a few desperate folks wanting something to pay for food..." He trailed off, seeing her anger fade slightly. He didn't want to ask, in case Kit was keeping it a secret, but something had to have happened to spur this kind of reaction. "Has she told you about... us?"

"Is there something special I should know?" she demanded, that small bit of lost emotion coming back two-fold.

"I've been teaching her how to handle a blade," he explained, backing up a step. Maybe this was where Kit got her temper from...

"Oh... yes, briefly," she then answered, thinking back on the small flash of blade she was shown before Kit went on a more dangerous delivery run. She had insisted that her daughter stay behind this time, before being reassured that Kit would be fine, thanks to 'her friend'. At the time, she assumed that Kit only meant the blade.

"Is there something _I_ should know?" Daveth asked.

She continued her ritual of placing soaps back in the wooden chest, finding the will to say the words. "Kit... was attacked last night."

"Is she alright? Can I see her?" This was his fault, he should have walked her to her house, instead of letting her insist that she scope out his living apartments. She must have fallen in the darkness, or they must have followed her up one of those ladders...

"She was in a lot of pain when I left, but... I don't think she'd turn you away." He sent a brisk nod of acceptance her way, and began to wait (not so patiently) for her to finish her work. Maybe she was wrong to think her previous thoughts of Daveth... He may not be the more honest working man she always envisioned for her Kit, since she hadn't been the naïve girl she was raising Grace and Rose to be and could tell 'those types' right away, but he did have a sense of dignity about him.

A criminal he may be, but an evil man he was not.

And maybe his presence was a blessing in disguise. There'd be someone capable to watch over Kit while her father could continue to work, and she in turn would watch over the twins. _I'll give those old biddies at the Chantry a break today... Maker knows what kind of mischief they can get into at home._ Locking the work chest, she pocketed the key and led Daveth back across the square, to the woodworking shop.

Striding through the shop stirred the feelings of heartsickness in her chest, nearly tempted to turn Daveth around and not have him see her like this. However, she had gotten this far; to suddenly turn and say she changed her mind would be cruel. She took a breath to steel herself, and started up the stairs to their living quarters-

His hand on her shoulder stopped her. Daveth seemed to be listening for something when she turned, a question on her lips. "Why did you-"

"Shh," he interrupted her, going around her and further up the stairs. She could see the blade on him from this vantage point, in nearly the same spot that she saw on Kit before. He stopped near the landing, listened more... and tensed as a slap echoed in the silence. She tensed as well, unsure of what to make of the sudden noise, and of him drawing his blade. He darted into a room suddenly, Kit's room, spurring her forward.

What she saw from the doorway would haunt her for the rest of her life: Daveth, his blade against her husband's throat, as he was in bed... with Kit... She froze, her hands fluttering to her mouth as her lungs forgot to work, her mind whirling. Him, and her daughter, the fear on her face, and his rather distinct positioning-

"Fix yourself, _ser,_" Daveth snarled, pressing the point of his dagger in. He wouldn't dare let himself think outside of the dagger and where it was pointing; if he did, he'd kill his man many times over. While the idea was appealing, Kit was also _right there_ and traumatized enough as she was. She must have been scarred enough by him, to resist something as simple as Daveth sitting himself closer to her... or reacting like she did when he offered himself as part of a trade.

Maker's balls, but he could be a thrice-damned idiot sometimes.

Kit slowly pushed herself up to a sit, despite the new bout of pain, as bone-deep shame burned her. As much as she couldn't believe she was found like this, she was glad it happened; as glad as she was, she couldn't help but feel like the worst person in the world for getting herself into this kind of situation to begin with. She couldn't even look at anyone right then, staring holes into her sheets.

His back stiff, and his arm true on mark, Daveth walked her father backwards out of Kit's room. "We're just going to go for a nice walk to the guardsmen outside," he announced, a hint of a hardened fighter showing through. As they walked out the doorway and slowly down the stairs, Kit's mother finally moved closer, fixing what little dignity Kit had left with shaking hands. Kit finally dared herself to look up, seeing the same kind of pain she was feeling reflected back in her mother's face.

Her eyes met Kit's a mere second before she was wrapped up in a tight hug. She held her daughter close, as if the action could erase all the pain and suffering. Both women started as the sound of a struggle from the lower level reached them. Kit was the first to react, scrambling to reach under the mattress for something. "Stay here," her mother already insisted, rising.

"No, you stay," Kit insisted, forcing herself to stand.

"Catherine, you're in no position to do anything-"

"I don't care."

"You could get hurt!"

"What more can be done that hasn't been done already?" Seeing the stricken look on her mother's face made her instantly regret those words. "Mom... I'll explain and we'll cry over this later, I promise. For now, make sure the girls are safe." Nodding to the dagger in her hand, she added, "I'm not exactly defenseless."

With a last look, she did as her daughter said, listening as Kit slid herself along the wall to remain upright as she traveled down. Kit, in turn, kept a tight grip on her dagger as she descended, determined not to let anything bad happen to her family. Breaths forced to slow and pain mostly ignored, she reached the bottom of the stairs, and adopted the fighting stance Daveth taught her.

Everything was silent once she reached the workshop. The front door was wide open, letting the sunlight stream in. Daveth was standing in the middle of the room, half turned to her and furiously scrubbing at his eyes. Her father was nowhere to be seen. "Daveth?"

He turned to her, blinking rapidly to clear the rest of his vision. "Is everyone safe?"

"Yes... what happened?"

He cursed under his breath, swiping a sleeve across his eyes again. "He threw wood dust in my eyes and ran out."

She relaxed out of her stance, arms going around her stomach. This was what she didn't want to hear. He could go and turn in Daveth, claiming he was an attacker... but that wouldn't last very long, would it? With three similar stories of his less than honorable actions, would he dare try it? "Do you... will he come back?"

Daveth turned to look at her fully. Upright, but not fully standing, a long shirt with the hem falling to her mid-thigh the only thing she wore and showing... He was angry with her for not telling him something like this sooner, having him find out like this instead. She must have been scared into the action, he reasoned, making him shift the focus of that anger. If that bastard did come back, it would be to a rather rude welcome.

Instead of answering, he walked over, ignoring the leftover dust making his face itch. "Let's get you upstairs," he stated, scooping her up as gently as he could. Her arms wrapped around him, her free hand gripping his shirt tightly. This time wasn't like any of the others; instead of tensing and readying to push him away, she was holding him closer.

Progress, in a sense, was already being made.

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><p><em>AN: I believe this will be the... second to last chapter posted before we get into where the game would begin, which will be interesting enough. As I said, the story's AU, but it's not just because of this reason alone. xD There'll be more fun-goodness in store, so stay tuned!<em>


	7. Chapter 7

_Okay, here we are at the approximate beginning point of where the game would begin! I saved a technical Duncan intro, because you guys basically know what's been going on with Kit. I'm going to split this into three parts, mainly because I didn't think this chapter would be this long to write... I cannot stress enough how AU this is going to be, but I do hope you guys still enjoy!_

_Read and review, mentioning of Power Rangers in the reviews gets you cyber cookies, Bioware owns all, etc._

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><p><em>2 weeks before Ostagar<em>

_*thnk!*_

_*thnk!*_

Kit let go of the axe head before stretching her arms overhead, curling and uncurling her fingers at the same time. The same job as before, chopping smaller blocks of soap, was just as tedious to her, but it had to be done. The fact that it was now on a more grand scale filled her days as well as building up strength in her arms. After her father's quick departure and his prolonged absence, it was up to her mother to ultimately decide that the empty wood shop below them be converted into a bona fide shop for the both of them to operate out of. Unfulfilled payments returned aside, they had managed to make a better business for themselves.

It kept Kit out of the slums of the city, where she feared that her father currently resided. There wasn't a breath of his existence whispered, nor evidence of him jailed or killed presented to anyone. She therefore felt that she had a good reason to still be cautious.

It hadn't taken long for her to heal from the physical ordeal; as was per the case, not all of her scars healed. No matter how much pleading from her mother or Daveth fell on her ears, she still couldn't tell either of them what made her say yes to letting herself be abused. It angered the latter easily enough, though she had very little idea why. The thought crossed her mind more than once that maybe he wasn't the scoundrel he wanted her to believe he was, but that was silly. He cared for her as a friend, nothing more.

And yet, that kiss...

The kiss they shared that fateful night wasn't followed by any others, though he was caught staring on more than one occasion. He expressed fears about hurting her by continuing, to which she would try to brush aside and say that her ordeals were over, which would start the same questions of what possessed her to make the decisions she did. The conversation would usually end with her stating that being caught the way she was was just as embarrassing as admitting this to anyone.

They were right, of course. Even if she couldn't have said no initially, hiding her feelings like she was wasn't good for anyone. She could still catch glimpses of guilt on her mother's face. Yet, there was nothing Kit wanted more than to just put everything behind her; it was all said and done, nothing could be done now to change the past, so it was best not to dwell on it.

With that being said, she picked up the axe blade- a tool she refused to give up in the move from market stall to store building- and returned to work.

She didn't realize it, but her mother was standing in the doorway to the nearly barren room, watching her daughter surrounded by large blocks of soap, studiously working. She wished Kit could see what she could, how it seemed that the same pig-tailed girl she had to struggle to hold in her lap was now the heart-hardened woman that still struggled with being held close. It may not have been physical now, but it hurt to see nonetheless. "Sweet," she called, interrupting Kit from her work. "There's deliveries to be made."

Kit slowly rose, stretching her stiff limbs once more before relaxing. "One would think that having a shop would cut down on this," she joked, smiling easily.

"I thought so, as well," her mother agreed, fiddling with the slip of parchment in her hands. "It's not too many, but they still need to be made."

Noticing the nervous posturing and words, Kit asked, "What's wrong? Goldanna's not on the list, is she?"

"No, she isn't... but other people are, from the back streets." Before Kit could say anything, her mother continued. "I could always do this for you, have you run the shop in my absence."

"It'll be fine. I could always have Daveth come with me." That, and Kit never left shop unarmed anymore.

Her mother still stepped forward, gently embracing Kit. "That doesn't mean I won't still worry for you. It's almost been three months, sweet."

"I know," she replied, starting to feel her back grow stiff.

"Even though I tell your sisters that he's not out there so that they're not afraid, I still am afraid myself, which makes me wonder why you aren't."

"I'm not discussing this," Kit firmly replied, stepping back.

"What is the harm in listening-"

"Mother, please. Like you said, it's nearly been three months."

"Are you saying you don't think he'll come back?"

"I'm saying that staying in my room curled up in a ball and constantly fearing the worst won't help anything."

She rubbed her forehead. Why Kit had to inherit her grandmother's stubborn streak was something she questioned more frequently. "I suppose you are right."

"Indeed. So why all the worry?"

"Because when all is said and done, you are still my daughter." She placed the list into Kit's hand, gently closing her fingers around it. "If you feel you must insist, then I won't stop you."

Feeling (a little) guilty over how surly she just was, knowing her mother was still merely concerned, she said, "I do love you, Mom."

"I love you as well. Now, let's get back to work. Products don't sell themselves after all." Before Kit turned to leave, her mother added, "I do want to talk with you about... what happened... most specifically on how you're handling it."

Kit hung her head slightly forward, her hand coming to rest on her forehead. She was sure her mother had the best intentions in mind, but it could be annoying at times. After donning her boots, she retrieved her dual blades and sheathed belt- a gift from Daveth, given to her not long after her father's disappearance. Along with practice with two blades, they had added rooftop navigation to the training they did. It was an awkward process at first, but with Kit throwing everything into her teachings, it was coming along smoothly.

With a final, sure tug to her belt, she draped her long work shirt over it to keep them hidden from view and started on her deliveries, carrying sack in hand. Luckily, there weren't that many to make, so she wouldn't have to take the large cart with her. The first place on her list was the Chantry... easy enough.

Until she got there and saw Sister Theohild pacing outside the front doors. "Oh Maker have mercy, this isn't good," she was muttering to herself.

Kit watched for a few moments before stepping closer. "Sister?"

"Oh, hello dearie," she greeted before resuming her pacing. "Where could they have possibly-"

"What's happened?" she asked curiously.

"Oh dearie, it was just so awful!" Kit winced as 'dearie' slightly grated on her nerves, but didn't interrupt the sister. "The children were playing outside as they normally do this time of day, but not all of the children came back for their studies!"

"Such a shame!" Kit exclaimed, not really concerned. Children were children, after all.

"If only Mother Boann were here now, instead of in the alienage. She would have made sure all of the children were back safely," Sister Theohild bemoaned.

Confused, Kit asked, "Why would Mother Boann be there?"

"For the elven weddings taking place today, of course! Mother Boann, Maker bless her, is the only one who will coronate them."

Kit mulled over that information before speaking once more. "Would you like some help finding them? I'm familiar with more of the hiding places-"

"Oh Maker bless you, I knew that He would send an answer to my **most humble **prayers!"

_... Right. I guess that means 'yes'._ "Where did you last see them?"

"With the other children in the market square. Oh Maker, stretch out your graceful and strong ham, and bring the young children back safely..."

Nodding slowly, she backed away as the sister continued her lightly butchered praying. After asking around at a couple of stands and getting mixed answers, she set off on her own... only to see a small group of children starting to sneak their way over to the alienage gate. She quirked a brow and started her way towards them, reaching them as they paused and clumped together, no doubt trying to think of how to get past the lone guard posted at the entrance.

The group of girls didn't notice her presence, so intent with their whispering to each other, until they noticed the outline of Kit's shadow. Of course, they all looked up at her, revealing that Gracie and Rosie were a part of the small group. Kit folded her arms as she looked at them, waiting for an explanation.

"Oh, hi Kit!" one of the other girls greeted, familiar with the older girl.

Kit said nothing, watching as the children started to fidget.

"_Pleeeeeeeeeeease_, can we see the wedding?" Rosie asked, finally breaking first.

"It's going to be two weddings today!" Gracie added. "Do you know what that means? TWO brides! With two pretty dresses!"

Clasping their hands together, all of the girls beseeched Kit with wide, 'poor adorable kitten' eyes. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease?"

"You guys know that Mother Boann could tell you what the brides look like as soon as she gets back-"

"But the wedding will be over then!" Rosie exclaimed.

"Please can we go?" Gracie asked, all of the young girls starting to scoot closer. "Pretty please? We promise we'll be good... please?"

Kit rubbed the back of her neck, a long suffering sigh escaping. Maker help her and her inability to say no to 'those eyes'... "Let's go see."

With a small collective cheer, the girls fell in line like obedient ducklings as Kit led them to the gate. Seeing it was closed, a set of armored guards starting across the bridge, she opened her mouth to ask the posted guard what happened; seeing her starting to speak, he beat her to it. "The alienage is closed, be on your way."

Kit blinked, pointing in the direction of the retreating guards. "... I don't think they know this."

"They're heading over because of some disturbance over there. Those knife-ears really don't know anything about civility nowadays..."

After biting her lower lip for a few moments, she woodenly thanked the guard before leading the saddened girls away and towards the Chantry. Gracie and Rosie understandably walked on either side of Kit, feet kicking in the dirt as they made their way. "Kitty, why did that guard not like us?" Grace asked. "Is that why he wouldn't let us in?"

"No, there was just something wrong in the alienage, and he didn't want anyone to get hurt."

"What was wrong?"

"I don't know..." And given how gossip flew around town, it was highly unlikely she'd get the right answer.

"Why did he call them 'knife-ears'?" Rosie asked.

"Because he doesn't like them that much."

"Do you call them knife-ears?"

Kit knelt down, tugging her sisters to a stop. "No, I don't. I don't want you two to say that about the elves either."

"Why not?"

"They're not having the best time either, and we don't need to add to that." That, and she didn't want her sisters to start turning into half of the townspeople that feel they're entitled to say anything they want. If Kit had to practice self-restraint, she was going to do the same of her sisters. As they both nodded in understanding, she gave them a quick hug and continued ushering the small group to the Chantry.

If Kit's departure from Sister Theohild was any indication of what the reunion would be like, however, she would have found a way to sneak the children in a secret passage, if there was one.

"You found the children!" she exclaimed loudly, making Kit nearly sure that half of the market could overhear. "Truly, you are a blessed person, a gift from the Maker-"

"You're welcome!" Kit exclaimed, cutting Sister Theohild off before she started trying to convince the town to sing of Kit's glory, or something equally embarrassing. "I think you should get them back to their lessons?"

"Ah, yes. As they say, 'a learned child is a blessing unto the Maker'. So, come along now, off with you girls!"

With hanging heads and dragging feet, they all started making their way past the sister. Kit chuckled, knowing an easy fix to the problem. "Oh no, girls, I think I just spotted a tickle monster!" A chorus of squeals sounded before they all ran inside; to avoid being scolded, Kit ducked back out and ran in the opposite direction, laughing herself.

She had no idea how far she was running until she stopped to orient herself... and realized she was in the back slums. _Father's never been found... he could always be hiding here..._ The thought immediately crossed her mind to turn tail and run out, possibly find someone to travel back here with her, but she had work to do here after all... and she was armed. She'd be fine... she could do this...

And she was sure she wasn't hallucinating the dangerous chuckle that seemed to echo around her.

Nor did she imagine her throat going dry, as she could help but feel that voice was familiar. She swallowed, trying to work moisture back into her mouth, which didn't work too well as she could feel a pair of eyes on her. Mustering bravado, she called out, "I'm armed! Don't come any closer!"

She waited a few heart-pounding moments, listening hard for any further indication of evil intent focused on her. Hearing none, but still feeling like she was being watched, she drifted her strong hand down to her belt, focusing on remaining as silent as possible.

A hand fell on her shoulder, making her scream aloud.


	8. Chapter 8

_Alright, part two of the game part of Kit's story... if that makes sense. Anyways, just one more part and then it'll be off to Ostagar, yay!_

_Bioware owns everything Dragon Age related, except for Kit, who's one of my minions... er, I mean, who I'm a minion to, given how stubborn she is, even to me. xD_

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><p>"Easy!" Daveth stated, suddenly finding a dagger pointed at him. "It's just me," he reassured her, holding his hands out in front of him.<p>

Kit huffed, lowering her arm. "Don't sneak up on me like that," she chastised him, returning her dagger to her sheath.

He smiled easily, relaxing his arms. "What can I say? Besides the fact that I believe my skills in stealth have improved..." Seeing Kit look around behind her, as if she was searching for something to be there, he peered around her to try and see what she was looking at. Finding nothing too strange, he added, "And while you're here and also a girl, I think you can tell me if I'd look good in a green dress. Nothing too bright, just subtle enough to match my eyes. What do you think?"

"Okay," Kit replied, having half listened to what was just said. Then, suddenly blinking, she turned and asked, "What about a dress?"

"What? Who said anything about that?"

Kit rolled her eyes. "Stop teasing," she said, smirking. It faded as she turned around, her eyes squinted with the utmost concentration. "I thought..."

"Thought what?"

She thought to herself, then finally sighed. "It's nothing, I guess."

Daveth nodded doubtfully, but said nothing. Having spent the rest seven months or so training her, he knew her body language better than she did; she was spooked about something. If he were to take three guesses, her father would most likely be in at least one of them. "Making deliveries still?" he asked.

"Yes... there's just a couple in this part of town, but-"

"I'll take them for you," he easily offered. Much like Kit, he didn't want her to be vulnerable for at least a second, not if he could do something about it.

She showed him her surprise. "Really?"

"Oh yeah, should be easy enough: deliver the soaps, charm the customers a bit, pick up the payment-"

"And only what's owed." Seeing his look of suffering made her laugh. "If you're going into an honest business, even for a short amount of time, you're going to be honest about it."

Growing serious, he stated, "You know that you could use the money to help you get on to better places-"

"And they could also use that money to help them survive here." Kit crossed her arms, not willing to budge. "You could use the money, if anything. Get yourself out of the slums and into an honest life. I could, in fact, pay you-"

"No!" Daveth exclaimed, cutting her off. Shaking his head, he appeared to mull it over, then finally agreed. "Alright, I'll do it for you... and for free." And no way was he budging on that.

"Aw, how sweet." She laughed once more as he made a slightly sour face, handing over the specific deliveries and explaining which needed to go where, only sending him on his way when she was sure he had it.

Kit, in the meantime, turned and took herself back into the open market district, letting go of a breath that she didn't realize she was holding. It was silly, letting her nerves get to her like that. Besides, there was also the possibility that her father could have left town altogether. Just because he wasn't dead didn't mean he wasn't there at all, right? Keep all possibilities open, and she'd be fine.

The bustle of the square was welcoming to her, as she got lost in the crowds of people, making her way to her next stop. Amongst the crowd of people were new faces, as could be expected in a town like this. More often than not, Denerim's population consisted of people just passing through. What was also not uncommon was the flow of new merchants; word had traveled more recently of a dwarf straight from Orzammar setting up shop as an armorer. She had yet to see said dwarf, but figured she would eventually.

It wasn't strange to see armored men dotting the population every so often, either. Whether in the Free Marches, or in the king's army, or even as a city guard, men and women in splintmail was never in shortage. She spotted a particular group standing just outside of the alienage gates, led by a tanned man in white and reddish-brown fabric, silver armor pieces glinting in the sunlight. The rest of the men surrounding him were in leathers, but nonetheless grim faced. Amongst the group was a small elven woman, who was very beautiful indeed, and was looking a bit lost in the middle of human armored men. She was wearing a light colored dress, torn in some places and decorated with blood splatter... but what seemed odd was her glancing down at her left hand every so often.

Kit couldn't help but instantly feel horrible for the elven woman, having felt as lost as she was at least once in her life. It seemed that she was right when she told her sisters that the elves weren't having an easy life, but to see it firsthand... Resolving to make her own difference in the world, she strode towards the group, reaching around inside her satchel. There had to be a health poultice in there somewhere... Not finding one right away, she stopped in the middle of the street to better search her bag.

Her fingers closed around the tin canister, when she got jostled from behind. Surprised, she stumbled forward, smacking into a solid person. "Watch where yer goin'," a male voice snarled as she turned to see who had the balls to do what he just did.

"Speak for yourself," she snapped back, adding a rather colorful nickname as she straightened herself with frustrated tugs of her shirt. Turning to the person she was shoved into, she saw that it was the same leader from before, staring at her with a rather shocked expression. Her cheeks pinkened with the realization that she just cussed like a sailor in front of him, but she refused to apologize for her actions. That man was a dim-witted fuckhead, and apologizing for putting him in his place would be plain stupid.

"I would ask if you were alright," the man in front of her stated, breaking the silence between them, "but you appear to be whole enough."

"Err... right. Thank you," she nervously stammered, looking around him. The rest of his crew was gone, and therefore the elf. "Damn..."

"What's the problem?"

Kit was close to telling him that it was nothing, feeling half embarrassed for her actions now, but he at least deserved to know why he had to 'save' her in the first place. "I was getting this for your elven friend," she explained, showing the health poultice to him. "It looked like she may have needed it."

He looked at the tin canister with a confused expression before his eyes lit up with understanding. "Ah, she wasn't injured. In a large fight, and understandably shaken, but not injured. I'm sure she would appreciate your concern." Seeing her downcast expression as it was returned to her pack, he introduced himself. "My name is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens."

Kit paused, her eyes widening. A Grey Warden? Here? Talking to her? Her sisters would die of excitement! She had learned of the fantastic order of warriors in her own years of the Chantry, and often placed one of them in her mind's eye version of the knight in shining armor when telling the stories to her sisters. Looking at this Duncan now, she couldn't help but be simultaneously impressed and let down. He certainly seemed tall and formidable enough, but the look of kindness he was giving her didn't exactly scream 'tougher than nails and takes no crap soldier'. Either that, or she needed to get her own facts straight.

Realizing he was waiting for a reply, she replied, "Kit Averill, ser."

"Duncan, please."

"Duncan, then." Reshouldering her pack, she asked, "What brings you to Denerim? Looking for recruits?"

"Indeed I am. I had heard of a promising one from the alienage, and couldn't have come at a better time, it seems."

Kit nodded solemnly, remembering the torn and bloodstained dress. It took her until that moment to realize that she must have been one of the brides from the double wedding that day. "There really must have been trouble, then... yet you seem fine enough," she couldn't help but voice her thoughts aloud.

"It is for the best that Grey Wardens not be involved with politics," he answered with practiced ease.

"And what does that have to do with anything?"

"The arl's son had instigated some trouble in the alienage. As much as I wanted to help, the only thing I could risk doing was lend weapons to the grooms left behind."

Instigated trouble with the brides... Kit could relate. "Right. So, you're looking for recruits, because..."

"A Blight is here." At her questioning look, he continued. "There have been no signs of an archdemon, but an unusual number of darkspawn on the surface."

As he explained, she couldn't help but look shocked. She never saw one herself, but the stories first told to her led to quite a few initial sleepless nights. "Should we be worried?"

"They haven't made it farther north than the Korcari Wilds in the south, so no... not yet. But the growing number of darkspawn have sent me on a search for recruits. I haven't found that many, sadly, but I can't give up hope now..." He suddenly stopped, laughing. "Oh, but listen to me ramble. Surely there must be-"

He stopped as a cloaked person bumped too close to Duncan, correcting himself without a backwards glance or spoken word. They both watched the person leave, before Duncan set his hands on the left half of his belt, now missing a coin purse. "Hey!" he shouted, surprising Kit with the sudden show of intimidation... and burst of speed as he gave chase. The cutpurse started running as well, the hood of his cloak blowing back.

Kit cursed under her breath, recognizing Daveth. She cursed again as more guards gave pursuit, because really, the stubborn man could have picked anyone other than a Grey Warden to pickpocket.

She tightened the strap around her, running headlong towards her gateway to the roofs. There was only one way to catch up to Daveth now.

Once she reached the rooftops, then came the task of finding him in the first place. Knowing him as well as she did, she knew he would want to distance himself, yet remain close enough to his newly discovered escape system, which narrowed it down to an area that was closer to the market square than anything. She listened for the sounds of the chase, and started off in that direction. It didn't help that the metal steps echoed up louder than leather clad feet did.

The city guards were splitting up, the metal clanking noises growing more dim and helping her listen better. Hurried, yet soft steps reached a corner, making Kit look over, only to duck back quickly once she saw Duncan. She heard his steps rush off from where she came from, fading as he turned a corner...

A form rustled below and to the left, and took off running. _Gotcha._

She followed him as he ran onwards, keeping pace as he ducked and hid, ducked around and doubled back, and was just about to jump down as ask what in the flames was taking him so long when something landed with a soft plop and clinking noise on the roof behind her. She halted in her steps, not realizing that Daveth was running on ahead, as she turned to investigate the disturbance. It took a bit of a search to find the simple brown pouch. Picking it up and sifting the contents inside helped her deduce what it actually was.

_Andraste's flaming sword, I'm going to beat Daveth myself!_ That thought in mind, she resumed her chase.

o0o0o

"There you are, you thief," a guard snarled in Daveth's ear, wrapping the rogue up in a bear hug and bringing the chase to a stop.

"I didn't steal anything," he replied, stubbornly playing ignorant while hoping Kit had the good sense to stay hidden.

"Ha! We'll just see about that, won't we?" Holding Daveth by the back of his neck, and keeping a tight hold on the arm twisted behind his back, the guard marched them back to the square, where the majority of the guards that had given up chase had congregated. That old man that he had pickpocketed was amongst them as well, which was surprising to see. He was wicked fast for an old man, Daveth was surprised to see at first, who wasn't expecting a pursuit to begin with. Even now, the old man was looking at him, studying him.

"Alright, cough it up," the guard holding him ordered.

"I don't have anything," Daveth insisted.

"Then what was your rush?" the guard taunted.

The rogue stubbornly held his tongue. His rush was to get as far away from Kit as possible. She needed the help, though she'd never tell him. His hopes of tossing it up to her and getting himself caught for it would drive the point home as to how serious he was.

As the silence stretched, the guard shook him, before laughing. "Maybe a visit to the garrison will loosen your tongue, eh?"

Daveth swallowed thickly, hoping Kit didn't just hear that. The last thing he wanted was some kind of rescue from her which would only prove to get them both in trouble.

"Captain, if I may have a word?" the old man spoke up.

Chuckling, the captain replied, "What say you? Have any more suitable punishments?"

"In fact, I would like to conscript him to the Grey Wardens."

The group grew silent, Daveth looking at the old man which newfound respect. He just cut the purse of a Grey Warden? Imagine that... The guard holding him muttered under his breath, something about letting a knife-eared wench go, and now Daveth himself. He wisely said nothing aloud, counting his blessings where he could find them. He was alive, Kit was safe and a bit more rich, and that was all that mattered.

The guard released him with some reluctance, and (entirely for show, of course) Daveth straightened and flexed the arm held behind him. He nodded up to said Grey Warden, saying, "Lead on, then, I'm following you." As they got a considerable distance away from the physical reach of the guards, Daveth turned around to walk backwards, and flipped them the bird, smiling grandly. He'd be damned if they take him to the garrison at all!

The old man introduced himself as Duncan, and started talking about the new life he was to live, but Daveth tuned him out for the most part. It got him out of the city and away from the law, with the only downside being no Kit to visit. He may have to fix his new and powerful status to get him stationed her, if that was at all possible.

Something hit the back of his leg as they neared the gates, making him turn back, but see no one. The offensive object that broke him from his thoughts was on the ground near him, and was also something he thought he'd never see again... Duncan's coin purse. "Damn it to the flames, Kit," he said aloud, hefting the bag in his hand.

A cleared throat to his left and an outstretched hand prompted Daveth into surrendering the bag. Duncan returned it to its previous place, pinning Daveth with a curious look. The rogue returned it with a hardened one of his own. "What?"

"This Kit you mentioned... is she by chance the woman I talked with when you stole this?"

"Yeah... so?"

"A lover of yours?"

"No," he muttered, searching the roofline for any trace of her before turning back to the city gates upon finding nothing. "Just someone I'm trying to help survive."

Duncan looked thoughtfully down to his coin purse, stolen to help benefit someone else, and yet returned. Either the guilt weighed on this woman's conscience, or she felt she didn't need the help. She certainly seemed strong-willed enough to have the latter happen... but to help her survive? "What do you mean by that, exactly?" Duncan asked as he walked onwards, determined to get some answers from this newest recruit.

Daveth looked at Duncan suspiciously before his features softened, as he obviously reflected on a past event. "She'll kill me if she finds out I told you this..."

"I'm certain she'll do no such thing; she's more compassionate than she lets on."

The rogue laughed softly, knowing this fact well enough. With a heavy heart, he opened up, albeit briefly, to his new commander about her past, and the thoughts that had been troubling him more recently about Kit.

Hopefully, his absence of protection wouldn't make things worse for her.


	9. Chapter 9

_AN: This is most likely the first thing I've ever written that has *ever* effected me in such a fashion, so I'm going to thank every single person that has read, reviewed, subscribed, added me or the stories I wrote to your alerts/favorites list, and helped me in any way possible when it came to Kit's story. This chapter in particular is especially dedicated to Jaden Anderson, who wanted "something bloody". I hope this is sufficient. :)_

_I also gotta give major props to Eve Hawk, for the recent collaboration. I suggest reading Prank War after reading this, if a pick-me-up is needed... I know I'm going to, haha!_

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><p>"Why did I do that, why did I do that," Kit muttered to herself as she watched the money bag arc across the air. She ducked down out of sight as soon as it hit Daveth's leg, hoping that he wouldn't chase her down. As much as her guilt was eating at her for holding onto the coin purse as long as she did, there was an equal amount of doubt for actually returning it. Daveth was only trying to help her, which she easily recognized as he let himself get caught and forcing her to remain hidden unless she wanted to get caught as well. However, as much as she appreciated help when it came, the reason why always left her feeling flustered.<p>

She wasn't some delicate flower crushed under a boot. Sure, it was horrible, but it was also done with. Everyone treating her like she could shatter at a moment's notice had gotten annoying after a little while, when all she wanted was to just forget. Like she was going to forget ever having possession of Duncan's coin purse, and how much was exactly in there (53 silvers, along with a small collection of precious stones that made her eyes widen). Out of sight... out of mind.

Yet as she watched Daveth step out of the castle gates, talking with Duncan about something, she couldn't help but feel that he would be the exception to the rule. That man was going to keep on shadowing her thoughts, so it might not be any use trying to forget about him and the do-or-die order he joined.

She completed the rest of her deliveries without incident, and with a whirl of questions in her mind. What she had learned in her teachings coupled with tall tales told during Satinalias told of there no longer being darkspawn to begin with, having been wiped out four centuries before. And yet this Duncan was concerned about a new one approaching ever closer, of it actually being here. Him conscripting Daveth, and possibly even that elven woman who looked so out of place with a simple dress on, was further evidence of his fears. Sure, they'd be fine if they stayed in Denerim and didn't head south, but what if...? What if the darkspawn headed north somehow, breaking past whatever defense must have been set up there?

Instead of heading back to the shop, she simply sat outside of the Chantry walls, watching people pass as she was lost in her own thoughts. Every sister chanting about the Blights spoke of great and selfless heroes that gave up their pasts, their families, everything they held dear to combat this great evil, and that it was what made them heroes. Did that mean he'd never come back, even if he wanted to? And what would that spell out for her? How did one become a Grey Warden to begin with? For all of the great acts of heroism, ending Blights and saving people from darkspawn, there seemed to be a lot of holes in the brilliant war banner described of them.

The smattering of giggling children as they left the Chantry broke her from her thoughts, watching as some broke out into a sprint as they enjoyed their reentry into the sunlight. She saw Gracie and Rosie skip past, lost in their own conversation. Both turned as she called out to them, running to her excitedly and talking as fast as possible, as was their nature. She laughed and simply let them, getting lost in the joyous sound. As she stood and started to walk them back to the shop, however, looking around after thinking such morose thoughts seemed to give her a new aspect of things. To imagine darkspawn- sinister looking black creatures, since she had never really seen one- overrunning great stretches of land, engulf entire cities with a sole intent of destruction...

And Daveth was going off to fight them...

She resisted the urge to pull both her sisters close and simply hold them, stepping them into the shop, their home. The door closed behind them as both twin girls ran ahead, intent on doing whatever it was they normally did once they got home. Kit's arms stretched up overhead, preparing herself for the last bout of work ahead, sighing aloud as her arms dropped.

"Mom," she called out into the quiet shop, wanting to see what else needed to be done before the shop closed. She was met with silence, which drew Kit into furrowing her brows. "Mom?" She started over to the stairs, looking up them. Her sisters' pattering feet and giggles softly echoed in the upper level, but there was still no sign. _Maybe she left to get some supplies..._ She shrugged, heading into the soap drying room. If nothing else, she could pass the time and make up for the work lost while waiting for her mother's return.

Kit stepped through the open doorway, looking around at the blocks laid out before her. The barrels of wet lye in the corner and wooden boxes stacked in front of them spelled out perfectly what was expected of her upon her arrival, since the dried soap could be cut and stored later. They had kept a copious supply always as a backup, so it wouldn't be too much stress should something happen. As Kit started to advance on the barrels, she spotted a pair of feet sticking out from behind them. She paused, staring at them... _what in the flames?_ "Hello!" she called out sharply, intent on startling whoever was sleeping in their shop into revealing who they were. The person didn't even twitch.

Slowly, starting to feel her mind disconnecting from her body, Kit eased herself forward, starting to tilt her head and upper body to peer around the barrels. More of the body came into view: worn white stockings, disappearing into a familiar faded green skirt, with a white work apron that held reddish-brown splotches... Her eyes bugged open wide, recognizing the face, the blood matted hair, the rest of the body covered with more blood, and eyes so blank and _lifeless_ it seemed unreal.

The floor creaked behind her.

A sharp blow struck the side of her face, knocking her over as spots started swimming in her vision.

Heavy footsteps neared her as Kit struggled to function through the blooming pain in her head. "I'm sure you could think of a better way to welcome me home," her familiar captor taunted, before kicking her in the temple, knocking her unconscious.

o0o0o

Being painfully dropped to the floor was what roused Kit, groaning and fighting to will away her pain. She had to focus... she had to focus, and keep her thoughts away, just like Daveth taught her.

_Dear Maker, he killed mom!_

_Dear Maker, he's going to kill me next..._

She shivered, whimpering in fear as her father drew himself closer to her. "That's right, you pretty little girl," he crooned, lightly stroking her hair. "I'm home now. I'll take care of you three, and you'll never want for anything... shhhhh..." Kit quieted down, prompting her father to strike her. She cried out, the pressure of pain in her head increasing. As she did, he returned to crooning her, trying to calm her once more.

"Why are you doing this?" she whimpered, tears leaking from the corners of her tightly scrunched eyes. She couldn't look at him, didn't dare let herself stare up at the face of doom.

"I'm here to take care of you," he explained, as if explaining to a child why they were being punished.

Not liking what that spelled out for her, she reached for the sheaths on her waist, only to find nothing there but the smooth feel of cloth pants. Sick dread filled her stomach as she finally looked at him, catching him smile at her realization.

_Dear Maker, it's going to happen again, and I can't stop it..._

Fingers lazily stroking her neck, he continued. "What's the matter with you... hm? I give you everything you could possibly want: a roof over your head, clothes on your back, food in your stomach," he listed off, watching her carefully as she continued to shiver with fear, breaths coming faster. Suddenly grasping her by her neck and lifting her closer to him, he added, "All I ask is for one thing in return, and instead of doing what you're supposed to, you turn against me... you told that boy your little secret."

Kit adamantly shook her head no, trying to fight his hold.

"Yes, you did," he explained calmly. "You told him, and disobeyed your father... and now you're going to be punished." Pushing up the hem of her shirt, he said, "And when I'm done teaching you your lesson... do you know what will happen next?" He leaned in, teasing her most private area as his breath washed over her face. "Grace and Rose will watch you go to sleep... for a very long time."

A protesting squeak escaped as Kit's mind kicked back into focus; nothing short of the most dreaded creature from the Black City would take her away from those two girls, and even then the action would be met with one hell of a protest. Abandoning her grip on his hand, she dug her fingers into his eyes, clawing for all she was worth. He released her with a curse, blocking his eyes and opening a plethora of opportunities.

_Watch your foe for weaknesses to use against them._ He was blinded, already a plus for her.

_Watch for tactics they tend to frequently use._ She scratched at his reaching dominant hand, wriggling herself out of the loose shirt once she couldn't fight his tight grip on it.

_... And promise to __never__ do that to me again..._ With all the might she could muster, she kicked her father right in the crotch. His howl of pain counted as a small victory for her, one that couldn't be dwelt on for long. She flipped herself over onto her bare stomach, starting to scramble away, only to be forced to the ground once more as he pushed his weight onto her. She could see her blades now, where they were tossed aside during her state of unconsciousness, and started to reach for them.

_You're weaponless, so you may as well be dead._

She stretched with her entire being, intending to not let that be her.

He rose himself off of her, tossing her onto her back before pinning her again. His eyes blazed through the red welts starting to rise on his skin as he sneered. "I just can't make you happy, can I, you whore?"

"No, you can't," she gritted, struggling to breathe normally. She just had to reach...

"We'll have to see how we can fix that, then," he chided, starting to loosen himself from his clothes. She fell still under him, the tears still falling from her eyes. He noticed this, squinting his eyes in thought. "What's this? Have you lost your fight?"

"No... I've just evened the odds."

Since it was never covered in her practices with Daveth, since both weren't exactly keen on being stabbed, she never knew what it would be like to suddenly hold someone's life in her hands... and simply let it drop. A small pop was the only noise heard as the dagger broke through the layer of skin, followed by a very warm flush of blood traveling across the blade, tickling across her fingers and down her arm, dripping from the blade immediately onto her chest. He choked a breath in, placing his hand over hers, eyes widening with surprise, realization...

The dagger was pushed out of his neck as he started to struggle away from her, the flow of blood quickly going from a steady stream to too much to lose at once. She followed him on hands and knees, watching his dying movements with a disturbing sense of hollow filling her chest. He pleaded her with his eyes, for help, for her to stop, for him to live...

The dagger was raised overhead and stabbed through his neck again. He gurgled, and fell still finally, his once cruel hands falling limply to the floor. A stomach churning wet noise filled the room as she lifted the dagger once more, stabbing him repeatedly as all her fear, all her torment, and all of her pain bubbled to the forefront. She sobbed openly, screaming half-coherent insults as his corpse grew more and more riddled with stab wounds, until her shaking arms simply couldn't take anymore.

She collapsed in the pool of blood next to her father, continuing to cry as if her heart was broken. It was over, and she was free. So why wasn't she happy? She should be dancing for joy, playing with her sisters with their same sense of carefree happiness, and hugging her mother for minutes- hours, even!

Her eyes opened, fixed themselves on her father's dead body. It was because her freedom came at a price... Adrenaline renewed, she picked herself up, slipped her fallen shirt back on, and started to pack what little possessions she had into a makeshift sack of her cape. Her blades were returned to her waist, now over the shirt she wore since it stuck to her blood soaked skin and she couldn't be bothered to fix it, or herself.

Once everything was set, she made her way over to her sisters' bedroom, trying the knob and finding it locked. Simple enough; a couple of careful twists with her knife and the door was open. Both looked up at her from the corner of the room they were huddling together in, and after a moment of hesitation, raced over and threw themselves into her waiting arms. All three girls let a few more tears fall over the terrifying ordeal they had experienced.

"Girls, I want you to listen to me very carefully," Kit started, pulling herself away enough to look at the twins. "I want you two to grab a few sets of clothes, and anything else you can carry that you want to take with you." Taking a deep breath, she finished, "We're going to be living someplace else for awhile."

"Is Mommy going to come with us?" Gracie asked.

Kit bit her lower lip and shook her head. "No, she can't come with us."

"What about... Daddy?" Rosie asked, her lower lip quivering. "I don't want him to come with..."

Kit set both hands on her sisters' shoulders, meeting each of their eyes equally. "I'm going to tell you this once, girls: he's not going to hurt anyone ever again. I don't want you to be afraid of him anymore. Can you do that for me?" As the twins nodded, Kit hugged them close again before ushering them into action. They each grabbed their favorite dresses, taking a few of their normal playthings along as well. In the last second, Kit scooped up their cloth dolls, the sticky blood on her hand leaving a smearing of blood across it.

"Where are we going?" Rosie asked, taking Kit's wrist and holding it as Gracie did the same. For all they knew, they were going to take a pleasant trip somewhere. Yet Kit couldn't find it in her heart to tell them her intentions... but only hope they would forgive her in time.

Early twilight fell across Denerim as Kit led her sisters from their home and towards the Chantry, keeping them from looking anywhere else but her hands. There weren't any outdoor shops open in the market, but there were few guards stationed outside still. They were simple ones, she knew from experience, and easy to sneak past once she convinced her sisters to play a 'game of silence' with her. She ushered them through the Chantry's grand doors, feeling small and insignificant in the sheer height and dominance of the internal structure. The building itself seemed to be stretching it's hands up to the Maker Himself; Kit simply tightened hers on her cloak and their dolls, ushering them onwards.

As could be expected, a few of the lay sisters passed by, mouths falling agape with shock. Kit ignored them, because they weren't important, nor the one she really wanted to see. There were no pleas for her to stop, to explain her presence, so she simply continued walking to Mother Boann's private office. The doors were open a crack, voices could be heard from inside, and Kit found herself not caring once more. Whoever Mother Boann was talking to would have to wait. The doors swung open easily, admitting her and her sisters entry. Both Mother Boann and the person she was talking to turned to see what disturbed them, both straightening with alarm as they took in Kit's appearance.

"Children... Kit?" Mother Boann asked.

"You do still take in orphans here, right?" Kit asked, gesturing to her sisters on either side of her.

The Revered Mother stepped closer. "Yes... Catherine-"

"How much will it cost?" Kit continued, nearly feeling desperate. "I don't have money on me right now, b-but I have supplies here," she said, dropping her cloak onto the ground in between them. "And... and I have this," she added, unclasping her daggers and belt from her, offering them forward. "Sell them, use them, do whatever you want with them, just please... let my sisters live here, keep them safe for me..." Tears overflowed again, unable to be held back.

"Child," Mother Boann crooned, gently pushing the outstretched hand back. "We do not have to be paid to accept children to raise. I do want to ask of you, though. You are of age to care for them yourself, you do realize..."

Kit shook her head. "Look at me," she whispered. As Mother Boann flinched, the young girl spoke again. "I'd be lucky if I was sent to the garrison right away, instead of the dungeons. I just... I want to be sure they'll be safe before I leave."

As both twins started to protest, catching on to what Kit was intending, Mother Boann's guest stepped forward, revealing himself to be Duncan. Kit couldn't help but be surprised herself. What was he doing here at this time of night? And why was he looking at her like he was studying her?

"Your intentions are to turn yourself into the guards," Duncan calmly stated.

Kit nodded firmly.

"Why is that? Yes, I can see your obvious state right now, but it could also be interpreted as defense, couldn't it?"

She shook her head. "Does defense show up with tons of blood on me and hardly any wounds to show for it?"

"And yet it was only hours ago when you tried giving me a health poultice to hand over to a certain elven woman who merely appeared to need it. She is like you, experienced in defending herself."

Kit's eyes flitted to the ground. Curse him for being right... but still... "Who would believe me?" she nearly whispered.

"Someone who'll be waiting for your arrival in Ostagar, if not myself."

Duncan watched as Kit's eyes suspiciously met his, subconsciously drawing her sisters closer to her. "Are you conscripting me?" she asked him.

"Are you going to force me to?" he retorted. Daveth could have been correct in saying that she had skill with the blades she was holding, but even if she didn't, he would have done the same thing he's doing now. She had a strong sense of doing what she thought was best, solely for the safety of others. It was a trait that was incredibly hard to find, and it saddened him to have to see her like this in order to find said trait.

Duncan was now glad he sent Daveth ahead of him to the ruins, fully convinced that he would rush on to Kit's house and viciously murder Kit's father... if it wasn't already done so.

"Kitty, please don't go," Gracie pleaded.

Kit knelt once more, pulling her sisters close to her once more. She rocked them in her arms gently to start to calm them before rearing back to look at them once more, memorizing their faces. "Gracie, Rosie... you know I love you both, very much."

"I love you, too," they mumbled back.

"I know it's hard, but I have to leave," she whispered to them, smoothing their hair back in calming gestures. A quick glance to Duncan helped her confirm her decision. "I'm going to go be a hero, you'll see."

"Like... like the knights in all the stories you tell us?" Rosie asked.

Her heart nearly shattering with the weight of the sorrow hitting her just then, she half sobbed and laughed. "Exactly like them. When I get back, I'll be telling you stories of my great adventures- all of them. I promise."

She gathered them close to her once more, letting the strength behind her hug be the goodbye she couldn't bring herself to say, and eventually pulled away and let Duncan lead her to her new life.


	10. Chapter 10

_AN: Wow, so many more people to thank! To all of the people that subscribed and read before (artemis7337, Dieddarker, Eve Hawk, Jaden Anderson, LittleRobinForever, and Morninglight) and to the newest additions: Angelakane, Parliament of Ravens, Gollo, Aritha, ThoughtBeforeAction, Doorbellspider, and shattered. illusiions... I honestly can't thank each and every one of you enough for all the help, whether big or small, you've given over the weeks. I love you guys a lot... you complete me! xD_

_And a bit of warning ahead of time... philosophical chapter is philosophical. :D I didn't expect it to happen like this, but am glad it turned out this way. If you have your own comments on it, let me know! I'd like to hear your thoughts about it._

_Bioware owns Dragon Age, blablabla, on with the chapter!_

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><p>Water rushed over Kit's hands, soaked into the shirt that was stained with blood and sweat, carrying the stains of the past week's events with the flow of the river. The newest recruit, cleaned and in a new shirt offered by Duncan, studied her hands as they worked, mulling over the events that led her to this point... her new freedom, saying goodbye to her sisters, the hard trek to Ostagar- spurred on by Kit herself when Duncan wasn't doing so- and so many things in between swirled through her thoughts in slow times like this. It was why she wanted to keep moving, give her each next footstep forward something to focus on instead.<p>

Duncan was nearby enough to talk to easily, but out of reach, having picked up the body cues Kit would never speak aloud in the first night of travel. He wiped a rag across the longer of his blades with well-practiced moves, falling in the companionable silence.

Since the Grey Warden just about forced this break on them, Kit was starting to feel anxious, like she had to do something or she'd spontaneously combust. She settled on asking him questions, instead. "Why were you there?"

He paused, mid swipe of his rag, to look at her in question. "What are you referring to?"

"The Chantry. Why were you there?"

"Ah... I was simply paying my respects to the Chantry-"

"Bullshit," Kit blurted, before gasping as her cheeks turned pink. What led her to swear at her new commander like this?

He chuckled lightly, however, taking it in stride. "It's true. As Grey Wardens, we never have easy tasks ahead of us, fighting darkspawn aside. Since the reinstatement of the order, we have to carefully watch our own actions, lest we bring about yet another ban."

"You... the Grey Wardens were banned?" she asked, shocked. "Why?"

"I would suppose our right to conscript anyone we wanted at will had something to do with it. But when King Maric was on the throne, one of his most important actions was restoring the Grey Wardens of Ferelden."

"So, your being at the Chantry was a visible gesture? A show to put on in case something should happen?"

"No," he answered, appearing amused at her suspicious questioning. "In my time, I have seen things that did affirm my belief in things unexplainable, and therefore a belief in the Maker and his numerous blessings. Though I may not be as devout as the Sisters or Brothers, I do like to take the time every now and then to show that faith."

Kit spread the wet shirt out on the grass beside her as she listened to Duncan. "You may have to forgive me if I don't share the same sentiments."

"It wasn't my intention to persuade you either way, but to simply answer your question."

Still, she wasn't satisfied. "So, how many of these miracles have you seen?"

"I see them every day," he replied, putting his cleaned sword to the side.

"Do you?"

"Indeed... as a matter of fact, there is one right behind you."

She turned, half expecting to see something glowing with an otherworldly halo around it. However, she had to be disappointed as the wide stretch of an oak tree met her gaze. "Uhm, Duncan?"

"Yes, Kit?"

"... That's a tree."

"Yes, it is," he answered. "Can you imagine how many years it must have endured to grow to the size it is now? How many near relentless forces of wind, or fires to withstand, or long stretches of winter did it suffer through, only to come out the stronger one at the end of it all?"

Kit fell silent as he finished speaking. For a Grey Warden, that was... insightful, to say the least. What prompted him to say such a thing?

"I may not have believed my mentor when he said something similar, but I've come to see that there may have been some truth in that statement." He watched her looking out to the river, before setting his dagger and rag aside. "It's not much of a stretch to see that in those recruited to the Grey Wardens."

"Is that what you saw in me, then?" she asked, pulling her legs up to her chest.

"It's what I see in the order as a whole. Each has their own reason behind being recruited, if yours and Daveth's can be compared as an example."

"Daveth I can understand; he has skills with weapons, is tough enough to fight in battles, not to mention his ability to make off with your coin purse when you least expect it... I don't have any of these things to offer. So, why pick me?"

"It is true that I often look for those skilled in fighting, which Daveth had told me he was teaching you. And... from what I also understand, you may not be hardened to a life of war, but to a life of hardships."

"I'm going to kill that man as soon as I see him," she muttered, raking an irritated hand through her still wet hair.

"In his defense, he wouldn't have been so forthcoming with the information had I not asked it of him." Setting himself closer to her, he lightly nudged her shoulder, gaining her full attention. "You are also very blessed to have a friendship with him. It's a situation where you may have been worse off if you were simply fighting on your own."

Her eyes flitted down to the ground, before meeting Duncan's once more, feeling embarrassed over her quick anger. "... I know. I... I just don't understand it sometimes. He teaches me all these things- how to be quick, to fight, to be strong- and then, he turns around and treats me like something that could break at the slightest movement."

"I'm sure if you were any other woman, you would have broken well before this point," he reassured her. "Perhaps he merely seeks to atone for his previous ignorance?" He stood, picked up his blades and sheathed them as he continued speaking. "As for the reason behind your recruitment... we are in troubled times. Such desperate, war-ridden times can try even the most valorous, yet there is a force that drives them to do what is right." His weapons strapped to his body, he stepped back and offered Kit a hand, lifting her to her feet once it was accepted.

"Though you weren't guilty of anything short of defending what is yours, you still sought to do what normally would be the right thing and seek atonement for your own actions at the very base of what it was. There may be a time when that decision making is tested again, and you'll have to make hard choices that could affect more than just yourself." As he handed her knapsack of things over, having switched them over from her cloak a few days back, he continued. "Whether it's turning yourself in for killing your abusive father, or for conscripting one too many people outside of a Blight, you must make choices that are deemed for the greater good of Ferelden. Defending your home against the darkspawn is no easy task, yet you have already shown yourself more capable than you let on. Your own inner fortitude will be a welcomed sight in the days to come, this I can assure you."

She studied the ground in between them as she contemplated his answer, before nodding her acceptance. "I understand."

He nodded in return at her answer. "Now, we must be about half a day's journey from the ruins. We should make it there before nightfall."

Kit picked up her washed shirt, and followed as Duncan turned. They started on their way once more, heading ever further south, and she fell into the familiar rhythm of having her own thoughts to entertain her. This time was different, however, Duncan's words ringing in the background adding to the chorus. He seemed to already see great things of her, and she was merely a recruit. What if all of her acts was merely a bravado, brought to life by being caught up in the moment?

Could she really help save an entire nation of people?

o0o0o

The ruins were nothing quite what Kit expected them to be, truth be told. Massive stone formations could easily be finished in her mind's eye to the wondrous buildings that Ostagar once was. That, and the scenery around said formation was nothing to shake a stick at. Tall mountains, wide expanses of green forestry on either side of the bridge they were crossing, and the sheer still quiet of everything around them all added up to a great first impression of the place.

It was a shame that Duncan had told her that this was where the darkspawn were being held back; she could just as easily see herself living out here, if not for the view itself.

A group of official looking men in armor had greeted Duncan once they neared the entrance, talking about what she could only guess were upcoming strategies. She tried listening as best as she could, but soon found herself lost and feeling awkward. She figured that if she remained nearby, she could be close enough to hear if she was needed for what she could help with. Her attention was then turned back to the view.

Oh, how she imagined living a more simple life, with her ever curious sisters at her side. Though she could guess there was a certain danger of living here that couldn't apply to living in the city, it would be well worth leading a more simple life, she felt.

An armor clad person joined her, staring out over the trees as she was. "Remarkable, isn't it," he spoke to her.

A sideways glance made out different features: golden armor, shined so brilliantly she could nearly see her own reflection in it, white-blond hair grown out longer with tied back braids at his temples, a strong side profile, and an easy smile amidst it all. Turning back to the landscape, she answered, "Yes, it is. I've never seen anything like it."

"You'll have to look- and breathe- your fill now," he cautioned. "After this, all you'll see and smell are soldiers... and trust me, it's not as glamorous as they say it is in all the tales."

Kit chuckled, amused with the notion. "I figured as much," she sighed, sounding forlorn.

The man shifted closer, taking another look at Kit. "I can't say I've met you before. Are you one of Duncan's recruits?"

"I am, yes." Turning to him, she asked, "Are you?"

"Sadly, no. I have my own duties to attend to. From where do you hail?"

"Denerim, from just outside of the market square." She turned back casually to look at the trees, watching a small V of birds flying above the tree line.

"As do I!" he exclaimed. "Now I'm starting to find more appeal in joining the Wardens..."

Some of her jovial feelings started to go cold, as she turned more fully to the landscape, making herself a smaller target. "Do you," she still commented, attempting to sound casual.

"Of course," he replied. It was with casual notice how her posture changed; maybe she thought him a womanizer? Striving for an extension of a peaceful gesture, he settled a hand down on her shoulder, saying, "Given that a native of my hometown has joined, I'm sure I could easily be accepted with a bit of persuasion, do you?"

A spin to duck out from under his arm, and Kit had her dagger in hand in the movement. As she straightened once more, the point was directed to the man's throat. She said nothing, her narrowed eyes and straightened arm saying all that was needed for her. The man in question narrowed his own eyes, as if spotting a challenge; still, he stuck both hands in the air around his shoulders, not moving anything else. There they froze in a stalemate, sizing each other up-

And faster than Kit would think possible, his hands darted forward and snatched said dagger from her grasp. She gasped, before thinking to retrieve her second one from the sheath, getting it up just in time to block the jab darting in her direction. It was switched to her strong hand while she tried to put some distance between them, but he wasn't having it. Still progressing forward with the jabs she had to bodily duck away from, it wasn't long before she got desperate enough to start fighting dirty.

His arm drew close enough for her to grab on to, holding it in place against her side as she struck the pommel of the dagger against his jaw, the closest unarmored body part she could reach. His head recoiled with a startled cry as he grasped her free hand with his own... smiling as he did. Smiling! The nerve of him to find amusement now! She let go of his blade hand, intent on smacking that right off his face, only to find him suddenly pushing her away before she could get in a good hit.

"Hold! Hold your ground, it's alright!" he cried to a group of advancing armored men, drawing her attention to their nearly drawn swords. Her back met stone wall as Duncan and another armored man that reeked of command joined the fray. "We were simply sparring, is all," the golden armored man explained, watching her as he did.

"Kit," Duncan softly cautioned, "now is not the best time to have a blade drawn-"

"He started it," Kit glowered, watching the man right back.

"Regardless, I will have to speak to you later about this."

"Duncan, men, please," the golden armored man beseeched. "No harm was done, I assure you. It was all for fun."

"Fun?" Kit retorted, her ire growing. "If it's 'fun' you seek from strange women you barely introduce yourself to before deciding to fight them, then look elsewhere!" With that, she sheathed her lone blade with irritation, ducking her way through the throng of guards as she traveled further into the ruins.

"Ser, your dagger!" he called after her.

"Keep it!" she snapped back, not breaking stride.

Cailan huffed as he watched the Warden recruit storm away. "Duncan, I fear she may have taken this the wrong way," he joked, wanting to alleviate the situation.

"Which is why I say that such foolhardy behavior will get you killed one of these days," Loghain stated in his normally surly manner.

"I apologize, your Majesty," Duncan stated as the guards relaxed, returning to their posts. "Had I known she would react in such a manner, I would have stepped in."

"No need for that, Duncan," Cailan dismissed with a wave of his hand. "It was refreshing to spar with someone that doesn't hold back from actually striking me for a change." His jaw wiggled a bit, as if to work the pain loose from under the skin. "No doubt she'll make a rather interesting addition to your ranks."

The senior Grey Warden couldn't help but inwardly agree... while hoping that she didn't unknowingly strike out at Alistair, Maker forbid, as jovial as he's been known to be. Or any of the other junior Wardens...

"I apologize, your Majesty, but you may have to excuse me for now," he quickly stated, before tearing off after Kit.


	11. Chapter 11

_AN: Woo, chapter 11, yay! I'd like all my readers to know that I'm always taking requests on what you'd like to see in the story into consideration, so let me know what you guys think!_

_Dragon Age is Bioware's baby; I'm simply hanging around in the crib. xD _

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><p>"How was I supposed to know that he was the <span>king<span>?"

Duncan sighed at Kit's exasperated question. The easiest thing done was chase down Kit to begin with. Explaining to her that the man she clocked in the jaw was not only a very powerful man, but one that also held a lot of sway in potential futures wasn't as easy, as she sharply went from disbelief to mortification mixed with anger. It wasn't that Cailan could be swayed to take drastic measures, given his jovial nature towards the young woman and his stubborn streak he had with the order in general, but there were just some things that one didn't do as a Grey Warden. Taking swings at royalty was one such thing.

"Regardless of him being king or not, I would like you to apologize to him-"

"Apologize? He started it-"

"And I am finishing it," Duncan interrupted. "Everyone at camp is under enough stress as it is, along with the king. Though he doesn't show it, it's better to show a united front under his direction." He ducked his head down to keep hers in sight as she looked off to the side. "I understand how you can be upset-"

"Do you? Do you really understand?" Kit snapped. "Okay, sure, the way I reacted to his statements could have been handled differently. But from my own personal experience of men abusing the power somehow bestowed upon them, I know for a fact what kind of depths they're capable of. Forget him being a king for two minutes; how was I supposed to know that he wasn't one of _them_?"

"Trust," he replied simply.

Kit huffed. "Trust," she repeated with a roll of her eyes. "What, trust that he's not like them, trust that he'll only use his kingly powers 'for the better of all man' as he calls any woman he wants to his bed?"

"The same trust you've shown Daveth can be shown to others," Duncan advised. "Not only did you allow him to teach you, you also confided to him in your hour of need, did you not?"

Her frown increased almost immediately. "I didn't," she stated. When he looked like he was going to ask further, she cut him off. "I didn't confide in him; he found out by himself, purely by coincidence." Her hands clenching and unclenching into fists, she added, "If he hadn't walked in like that, he _still_ wouldn't know."

He seemed to think to himself for a few moments, before shaking his head. "There is a saying we use in my homeland: 'only the mountain tops never meet'."

"What does that mean?"

"That there are no such things as coincidences. If you weren't going to say anything, he still would have found out eventually for himself."

Kit sighed herself, pressing her fingers against a developing ache on her third eye. He didn't get it at all! "Listen, I'll think about it, if it'll please you. In the meantime, I think I'll go and see what can be seen in camp."

"Fair enough," he conceded. "You can find me in the Grey Wardens encampment should you need anything."

She gave him a quick nod before turning on her heel and marching off into the camp. There had to be something for her to do, instead of wondering what in Andraste's name mountains had to do with coincidences.

o0o0o

Sitting in an open patch of sunlight close to the mage encampment, free from any trodden chainmail encased boot, a younger, silver-haired mage sat cross-legged with a thick tome laid open across her legs. Her head rested on her curled left hand as it balanced on her knee, her right playing idly with a gathering of thick, silver strands that liked to stubbornly fall into her face while she was reading. Her favorite tome of her favorite adventures of the outside world was one that First Enchanter Irving had allowed her to take with her, after her many assurances that she would keep it safe for him. His saying that he must have had a few other copies somewhere in his office sealed the deal for her.

She had just reached her favorite part, as the Tevinter Imperium began its great fall, when a stretch of her back and neck brought her eyes up to see a woman who must have been about her age, standing just off to the side of the raised platform a Chantry sister was using to pray openly for the soldiers. The other girl noticed the mage's open stare soon enough; not knowing what to do otherwise, she waved to the strange girl. She considered the mage momentarily before waving back.

"I'm Solona," the mage introduced herself, almost too quiet to hear over the din of clanking metal.

Since the girl was still looking at Solona, however, she managed to catch what was being said. "Kit," she replied.

_Wow, what a cool sounding name!_ Instead of saying that aloud, she nodded. "Hi," she mumbled, blushing softly.

Kit's mouth twisted into a crooked smile. "Hi."

Both girls fell silent as Solona turned her gaze back down to the tome. After nervously starting the new paragraph over a few times, Kit's voice interrupted her efforts. "What are you reading?"

Solona's head snapped back up, before nervously tucking her hair back behind her ears. "Oh! Well, I ah... it's the, um, general history of Ferelden and its mages."

Kit chuckled aloud. "No wonder it looks so thick."

"It is, but it's all so very fascinating!" Solona insisted. "I feel I learn something new every time I read it!"

"You mean... you've read it more than once?"

"Of course... in fact, I think I lost track after..." Solona thought to herself, then stated with assurance, "twelve times."

As could be expected, Kit's eyes bulged. "Twelve...?"

"It's my favorite," the mage defended softly, curling the book closer to herself.

"I believe you," Kit replied, stepping closer and lowering herself down to Solona's side. "So, you must be here with the rest of the mages..."

Fiddling her fingers along the edge of the book's cover, Solona sheepishly replied, "Not exactly... I'm here to be a Grey Warden."

"Really?"

Solona nodded her reply, eyes glued to her pages. Wynne was doubtful as well, which could be understandable. How many Grey Warden mages were shy, awkward at best bookworms?

"Why not read in the Grey Warden encampment?"

"I... guess I didn't expect so many people to be there. It... it can be intimidating for a mage." Seeing Kit's confused look, Solona added, "This is the first time I've traveled outside of the Circle tower."

"Oh..." Both girls fell silent once more, which Solona spent slowly turning a page. As curious as she was about Kit, it would be flat out rude to start peppering her with questions. Besides, it wasn't exactly like her to do that to people she just met.

_But now we're just sitting here... if only they taught classes on how to socialize at Kinloch!_

"Would it help if I said this was my first time outside of Denerim?" Kit asked.

Solona cast a sideways look to Kit, a hint of an excited smile beginning to show. "Denerim... is that where Brother Genetivi lives? Have you met him?" She contradicted herself almost immediately, saying, "No, you couldn't have, he's almost always out on his adventures."

Kit smiled openly. "No, I haven't had the chance."

"What's Denerim like? I know it's the capital city... how many people are there?"

She looked around the camp, as if gauging how many people were around them, before answering. "I don't think we'll be able to tell by just sitting here..." Turning to Solona once more, she asked, "How about we take an adventure of ourselves and see how Ostagar compares to Denerim?"

The mage in question quickly looked down at her book as the offer to go on an adventure sank in... she always did wonder what it was like to go on an adventure of her own. Why not start on a relatively small and safe one such as this? Tucking the same errant strands of hair behind her ear, she looked up at Kit and smiled.

o0o0o

"I do not see the point of this."

Daveth resisted the urge to roll his eyes (though it was an impressive feat) at the irritating man who decided to continue complaining. Ser Jory from Highever... the rogue learned everything he needed to know about the man within the first five minutes of meeting him, which was him leaving behind a wife and soon-to-be-coming child to serve the Grey Wardens, and him not understanding why they had to go through more rituals or tests if they had apparently already earned their place. Granted, the whole business of the Joining ritual Daveth discreetly overheard the previous night _was_ mysterious, especially with how everyone was keeping mum about it to the recruits.

Still, he couldn't resist poking a bit of fun. "Are you blubbering again?" he asked slyly, leaning up against the slanted wall surrounding the merchant's corner of camp, arms crossed in fake nonchalance.

"No, I just fail to see the point of performing more tests. Have we not already earned our place?"

Daveth shook his head. "Ser knight, you say you've participated in tournaments, yes?"

"I have; I was recruited from one in Highever," Jory defended.

"What if that's all this is? Some kind of tournament... they've picked the best from the rest, and now they need to decide the best from the best."

"But they already call us Wardens," Jory persisted. "Granted, it's Warden 'recruits', but Wardens nonetheless... right?" As Daveth didn't answer, he continued. "I only know that had I known about all of this, I wouldn't have left behind my wife and child."

"Interesting... where are they living again?"

"Highever... why do you ask?"

"Just checking," Daveth dryly commented.

"Now is not the time to jest," Jory replied, a hint of edge in his tone. He continued on with his ranting, but Daveth tuned him out, focusing on a certain branch of a tree just past Jory's shoulder. It must have been a week or so since he left Denerim, and while he wasn't sad to leave the city, he was ready to climb the walls from boredom, especially without Kit around to spar with... or get into mischief with... Maker's balls, even talking to her would be a welcome reprieve.

And much like his thoughts did recently, once they turned to Kit, they almost immediately shifted to where he stood with her. He surely couldn't forget past actions, nor the look of complete surprise when he pulled back from their first kiss, but he was a good man. He wouldn't push her into anything she wasn't comfortable with... but as months passed, and certain events happened the way they did, he began to wonder if anything would happen at all.

His fist clenched subtly as he thought back on Kit's father. Time didn't ebb those ill feelings, but only made thoughts of exacting revenge that much more diverse. It was a true shame that he didn't get the chance to act on them before he left for the Grey Wardens, to just have that one chance to raise hell and fulfill vendetta's before joining the safety the order provided.

Those eyes she had, when Daveth found the asshole with Kit, would forever sear him. There were just some things that couldn't be forgotten.

Jory's hand waving in front of his face drew Daveth's attention suddenly, though he did nothing more than look at the knight and arch a brow to show he was back in the conversation. Jory, in turned, gave Daveth an exasperated look. "How can you fight in battle when you tune out people so readily?"

"Oh, I listen when I need to. Trust me on that, ser knight."

After sighing with exasperation, Jory spoke again. "I was just remarking on the two of them," he said, waving his hand towards a pair of women that caught his attention. One was obviously a mage, from the near identical robes she was wearing that he had spotted on other mages- from a distance, of course- but the other woman he was having a hard time placing. She was slight of build and not dressed in armor, which could peg her as a simple servant girl, or a messenger. Yet the lack of a standard garb that he had seen on other female servants gave him a bit of pause... as did her company, in fact.

The magi were normally off to their own devices, so spending time with a non-mage seemed out of the norm to see. And the way the plainly dressed woman was carrying herself-

Daveth's silent form striding across his vision broke through his thoughts. He was apparently going in the same direction as the duo of women... and was apparently done listening to Jory.

"Maker's breath," he muttered, rolling his eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

_AN: Yay! Special weekend means I'm giving back to you, my readers, by giving you two of everything: two chapters here, two chapters for Incredible Machine, and two little one shot ficlets (the latter two being pulled off at the last second, go me!). I'm really having lots of fun with this now that I let myself take it into AU territory, and I hope you guys are having fun as well! Whether it's what you like, any mistakes caught, or what you would like to see in the story, drop a line and let me know!_

_Hot-hot-hot-hot-hot- Dragon Age hot-hot-hot-hot-hot-hot-hot- Bioware hot-hot-hot-hot-hot-hot- HOT POCKETS!_

_... tired brain is tired..._

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><p>"Yes, I was harassing <span>you<span> by delivering a message?"

Alistair had to fight hard to suppress the grin from spreading across his features as the mage in front of him grew a particularly amusing shade of red. It wasn't easy being a Grey Warden ex-Templar, given this situation; the revered mother, knowing full well the implications of the action, chose Alistair- and only Alistair- to 'deliver a message' to the mages. Though he was ignorant most of the time, when it came to his past training and where it could be implied, he was sharp as fresh cheddar.

_Maker, I could really go for some cheese right now..._

Lost in his thoughts as he was, he completely glossed over everything the mage had told him... though it looked especially angry and supposedly hurtful, given the expression on the mage's face. "We were getting along so well," Alistair remarked. "I was even going to name one of my children after you..." Putting his own little jab into the mix, he added, "The _grumpy_ one."

"Enough! I will see the woman if I must!" The mage turned angrily away from Alistair, leaving behind the small collection of elfroots he was collecting. Approaching a duo of women Alistair was surprised to suddenly find there, the mage snarled, "Get out of my way."

One looked positively white as she skittered behind the back of the other, eyes downcast. The other woman, however, narrowed her gaze at the passing mage, her hand flitting up to the blade on her hip. She followed him with her eyes, head turning to keep him in sight as he passed by. One could taste the tension in the air with her, Alistair figured to himself. After a couple of beats, she seemed to let herself breathe, relaxing her hold on her blade as the first woman came back out of hiding. The second woman seemed to soften even further, giving the first an encouraging grin as they continued forward on their path.

"One good thing about a Blight," Alistair commented aloud as the women drew close enough, "is how it always brings people together." And here was witnessing the best side of that statement.

Both women paused, not saying anything. The silver haired woman flitted her eyes over him for a brief moment before becoming interested in her shoes. The testy one next to her keep hers unnervingly trained on him, however, arching a brow as the silence grew.

"It's like a party," Alistair nervously continued. "We could all stand in a circle, hold hands, sing songs... that'll give the darkspawn something to think about."

To his surprise, the silver haired woman giggled. An even greater surprise came when the second woman softened at the action, allowing a twitch at the corner of the mouth.

_Progress! This is good! Keep it up, Alistair..._ Remembering his manners, he stepped forward with an outstretched hand. "I'm Alistair, Junior Member of the Grey Wardens."

The second woman, not surprisingly, folded her hands behind her back, nodding in greeting instead. The silver haired woman set her hand in his- more like it softly slid in against his- and finally looked up at him.

"Wow," shot out of his mouth before it could be stopped. She really was as pale as he first saw her, and it wasn't due to the rude mage. Pale skin, silver hair and eyebrows, and the bluest eyes he had ever seen in his life instantly captured his attention.

He didn't even realize he was openly staring until the second woman cleared her throat. He startled out of his thoughts to find her looking critically at him. "Is there a problem?" she asked, a hint of a challenge in her tone.

"No, none at all," Alistair insisted. "I've simply never seen eyes like yours before," he admitted to both women, but mainly to the woman whose hand was still enclosed in his... Blush rising up his neck, her hand was instantly dropped. "You may have to forgive me if I seemed rude."

"It's okay," the silver haired woman softly replied. Gathering enough courage herself, she continued. "I'm Solona, and this is Kit. We're both Grey Warden recruits."

"Oh," he said. "I should have recognized you both right away, I apologize."

"I just arrived not too long ago," Kit reassured Alistair, her arms beginning to relax. "No harm done."

"And... I mainly stayed with the mages here so far," Solona added.

He nodded slowly in understanding. He knew that in the very least, someone like Solona would be very recognizable amidst the camp. And now that his thoughts were on it, it was becoming increasingly harder to resist asking. "How... I mean, that is... why..."

"... do I look so pale," Solona finished. As he flushed rather guiltily, she smiled. "It's alright; you aren't the first person to ask, and I know you won't be the last, either. Early on in my apprenticeship, we were learning ice spells, and First Enchanter Irving decided to sit in on this class. I didn't want to show off, or try to impress him, but I did get nervous regardless... Instead of smothering out the fire, I said the words too fast, mixing up a few I believe, and froze myself."

Alistair and Kit winced in sympathy. "How bad was the frostbite?" Alistair asked, having heard stories of the effects of a harsh winter from some of the other Wardens.

"Oh! I feel I may have misinterpreted," Solona quickly stated. "I froze myself, meaning I became close to turning into an ice sculpture. I couldn't see myself too clearly, but I was told that one could see right through my fingers." Avoiding the gaped mouth, wide stares, she finished her short tale. "Once they realized I was melting, the rest of the class was spent keeping me cold until the spell reversal was found and performed. Since then, I've had my white hair and pale skin."

Alistair and Kit fell silent, considering Solona's tale. He supposed it could make sense, especially if one was nervous enough at such a young age and set in a situation like that. Maker knew he felt like a bumbling idiot on a few occasions himself.

"What were you and the mage arguing about?" Kit asked, sensing a change of subject was needed.

"Ah, that," Alistair started. "I believe it wasn't so much of what I was arguing with him about, but more like the implications behind it. You see, I was once a Templar."

Solona openly gaped, rather appropriately so. Kit, on the other hand, gave him a speculative gaze. "A mage hunter?"

"Yes, but I hadn't taken my vows," he instantly corrected. "I was merely training to become one when I was recruited to the order... much to the grand cleric's 'disappointment'."

"So, you haven't..." Solona started.

"I haven't tracked down mages, no. I believe it was the first Harrowing I ever witnessed that changed my mind on becoming a Templar." Seeing Kit's confused look, he explained himself further. "A Harrowing is a ritual for mages; a demon is called in from the Fade and put inside the mage to see if they can resist it."

That was as far as he managed to explain before Kit looked absolutely shocked. Turning to Solona, she asked, "Why would they do such a thing?"

Shyly, the mage replied, "It's to test our mental fortitude and willpower. If we can resist the demon, we become full mages."

"Yes, but... a demon?"

"We go to the Fade each night," Solona explained. "Well, except for the dwarves I would imagine. All sorts of spirits and demons frequent there, and are attracted to those of us that are aware in the Fade... namely, mages. That makes us more attractive to them, and more susceptible to possession, in the case of the demons. The Harrowing is the ritual that puts all that we've learned to the test."

"The mage I witnessed wasn't able to resist," Alistair continued, picking up after Solona's explanation with a pained look. "We had to... end it quickly. I didn't really want to be a Templar after that."

"But, you still have the training, I'd imagine?" Kit asked.

"Yes. Duncan thought that my abilities as a Templar would be useful against the darkspawn that have magic at their disposal, so I kept up with my training."

"I do admit, it'd be useful to have," Solona cautiously said.

"Tell me," Alistair requested. "Have either of you fought darkspawn before?" As both shook their heads no, he continued. "I wasn't prepared for my first one. I didn't expect it to be as monstrous as it was, or as terrifying." Alistair continued on, telling both women about the responsibilities of being an Grey Warden; Solona, he could tell, was paying close attention, while Kit did the same for the first few sentences before her eyes narrowed, looking distinctly away. It first crossed his mind that she was simply bored and not paying attention, but being a master of such actions at the Chantry told him something else... she seemed too aware to simply be daydreaming.

His answer came when she suddenly darted towards him, reaching up and yanking the sword from his sheath. "Wha- hey!" he protested, watching as she turned, unsheathed her dagger-

- and blocked an incoming blow from another of the Warden recruits... Daveth, he thought the man's name was. Alistair backed up, taking Solona with him, to better assess what was happening before stepping into the fray.

Another attack was blocked before both fighters leapt apart, Kit adjusting the sword in her hand a few times as if she were getting used to the weight. They both circled each other, keeping an eye out for any weak spots, or simply on each other.

"You have to admit, I'm getting better," Daveth called across to her.

"You got as far as you did good enough, I'll give you that," Kit replied.

Daveth stilled, straightening and dropping his guard. "'Good enough'? What does 'good enough' mean?"

Kit slashed upwards with the sword while darting forward, getting too close for comfort with the lengthened blade. Daveth ducked away just in time, bringing his blades up to counter-attack the open spot Alistair's sword made. Her body twisted to the side, avoiding the blades, while her left hand circled around his. The butt of Alistair's sword met the trapped hand, forcing Daveth to drop the dagger before it was released.

Daveth's other arm wrapped around Kit's front, pulling her bodily in while trapping the blade of the sword; Kit retaliated by lifting the point of her dagger to Daveth's neck. Both froze before Daveth chuckled, knowing he was had in that round. Slowly, Daveth withdrew his arm, allowing Kit to turn and face her opponent, effectively stepping on the dropped dagger. Daveth kept on stepping backwards, his smile growing. "You'll have to come after me sometime," he taunted, stopping a certain point away where he knew not even the sword would reach him.

"Fine," Kit acquiesced, adjusting her hold on the blade before throwing it behind her, towards Alistair. Once that was done, she scooped up the dagger from under her foot and advanced on Daveth. The same process was started over again, both rogues circling each other, only with Daveth holding his empty hand upraised, with the same assuredness of there being a blade in it.

Testing strikes were performed, and as Kit's were blocked by Daveth's free hand, Alistair found himself closely studying the pair. They _had_ to know each other well to trust one not to injure the other while hindered in such a fashion. Slowly, as not to disturb them, he retrieved his sword before standing back with Solona, continuing to watch them.

"I'm finding myself curious," Daveth wondered aloud, as they circled each other again.

"About what, exactly?" Kit asked. She nearly cursed as Daveth turned his body, forcing her to do the same or be at a disadvantage. It also forced her weak hand to be at the forefront, something he knew she hated. But it would make sense that he'd want to put himself at the advantage, to put his dominant left hand in front. She'd just have to compromise then, wouldn't she?

"Why you're not with your sisters in Denerim," Daveth carefully stated. Kit's foot slipped in surprise, before she sharply righted herself, eyes narrowed and fingers tightened. _Ah, she's in a mood today._

"I can't travel now?" she asked him.

"It was just my understanding- and your words- that it's your sisters that keep you in Denerim. And yet you're here."

Kit's right hand darted forward, clanging her blade hard against his in an attempt to knock it loose. Daveth's empty one met hers shortly after, grabbing a hold of her wrist. Swinging it in a wide arc, she wrestled herself loose, returning quickly to her previous stance.

"Something had to have happened-" Daveth started.

"I'm not going to talk about it," Kit insisted.

And yet she was trying to make herself an even smaller target, her arms and legs tensing. Daveth let out an exasperated huff, purposely dropping his guard. "Kit, you're getting angry again."

She dropped hers as well, turning the blades in to rub at her temples. "I know," she muttered, turning away.

Daveth, feeling the fight was coming to an end, sheathed his blade before stepping up to Kit's side. "You know," he quietly told her, "if it has anything to do with... you-know-what, you can tell me-"

In a sudden flurry of movement, Kit swung both blades down to the left, then to the right. Daveth ducked both, though he wasn't expecting the first to happen. His left foot lashed out, catching Kit in the wrists and sending both blades up into the air. Before she could gain her senses, he was there with a firm hold on her right wrist and left shoulder. A well placed swipe with his left foot, and she was pinned to the ground by the bare minimum- something he knew she would appreciate him doing while sending his point across.

Kit remained staring up into his eyes, before relaxing under his hold, sighing. Daveth, however, wasn't convinced. Releasing his hold on her, he rose to his feet. "Are you finished?"

Looking dejected, she raised herself up onto her elbows before reaching a hand up to him. Setting a foot in between her outstretched legs, Daveth started to kneel down, only to barely catch one of her legs as it sharply rose, getting dangerously close to hitting him in the crotch again. "Hey!" he quickly protested, looking up in time to see her grabbing two firm handholds of his shirt.

_Oh sod..._

Using her momentum, Kit rocked back, pulling Daveth off his feet. With her own foot placed against his stomach, she pushed him up and over, dropping him onto the ground just ahead of her. She rocked back forward and onto her feet after hearing the satisfying grunt of impact, turning to see him remaining in that spot. She stepped closer to his left shoulder, before kneeling to better meet his eyes. "Now I'm finished," she replied, clapping her hand to his shoulder.

As she rose to leave, Daveth caught her hand in his own. She turned back to him, before averting her eyes, knowing what was coming. "Kit, I mean it... You can tell me."

"No, I can't," Kit insisted. Shaking her head, she added, "Not yet."

He sat up, resting back on his hands. "But you will?"

She found herself nodding. "Yeah, I will. Just not today."

"Alright, I can live with that," he settled, rising to his feet. He looked around at the fallen blades, the tally finally adding up in his head. "Where's your other dagger?"


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning found Kit outside of the magi encampment, sitting back against a large tree. Her head leaned back against the bark, a yawn escaping her. After the sparring session with Daveth, she had spent the rest of the afternoon with him, Solona, and Alistair. The three of them shared many tales about their past adventures, with Kit simply sitting back and listening, not wanting to give anything more than the bare bones of her personal life. With a silencing look from Daveth, any personal question directed towards her was dropped.

As time went on, she found herself adoring Solona and finding an easy camaraderie with Alistair. Solona may be the 'shy bookworm' she often claimed herself to be, but the shy and quiet demeanor mixed with a light amount naivety was a breath of fresh air amongst the boisterous soldiers around camp. Alistair, on the other hand, was easy going and quick with a joke, keeping her and Solona in stitches soon enough.

Daveth, of course, was the slice of home that she was lucky to find again. Though she had made that promise to him, some scars ran deeper than others, and it made her wonder if she could ever hold herself to that. Duncan's words about him possibly wanting to make up for being ignorant about her past did make sense to her, but there was so much past that Daveth couldn't possibly begin to make up for. While one small part still wanted to reach out for comfort, she felt that she also couldn't put it upon herself to burden him with everything.

Those thoughts, along with the strange sensation of sleeping outside for the first time in her life, made the previous night a restless one.

"Good morning," Solona greeted, taking a seat next to Kit.

"Not yet," Kit murmured back, lolling her head to the side to better look at the mage.

Solona winced, seeing the slight bags under Kit's eyes. "Rough night?"

"Mmhmm," Kit replied, her head lolling in the other direction before swinging her head forward, her chin resting on her collarbone.

Giggling quietly, Solona said, "Hold on, let me find something." With that, she sprung up to her feet with far more energy than Kit was able to muster. The sounds of the morning enveloped her silent form, almost lulling her into a sleep as it was...

"Okay," Solona announced, showing back up at Kit's side. "This is a stamina draught," she added, tapping Kit's arm with a small vial. Managing to pick her head back up, the rogue examined the stoppered vial and the clear substance within. It was an awfully small vial too, she couldn't help but notice. _This_ was supposed to help? Seeing Kit's doubt, the mage added, "If this is the first one you've ever taken, it'd be best to start out small... smaller than this, if possible."

"How much smaller?"

"Half the vial, just to be safe. I've read of many dangerous situations of either staying awake for days, body parts twitching uncontrollably, and abnormal heart rates from those taking larger-than-necessary doses."

_And she's wanting me to drink that?_ Kit asked herself. "I'm not sure..."

"As long as one's careful, a regular dosage should last until you're used to being awake, the effects tapering away naturally. Then, if you feel you need more, there'll be another perfect dosage amount to be had." Nodding her assurance, Solona offered the vial again.

Even though Kit's mind forced some of the fog to clear after hearing the potential side effects, it still wasn't sufficient enough to last through the day. She gave in to Solona's gentle prodding, slowly uncorking the vial, and swallowing half the contents. While the draught was nearly tasteless, she could feel it begin to subtly sharpen her senses.

"Can I ask you something?" Solona quietly asked.

"Of course," Kit replied, blinking the rest of her tired haze away.

"... You don't have to answer if you feel offended..." Seeing the prompting nod from Kit, Solona continued. "Do you and Daveth not like each other?"

"What? No. I mean, of course we do like each other?"

"Then why were you fighting him yesterday?"

Kit paused, her confusion clear across her face, before it dawned with understanding. "Oh no, we weren't fighting... well, we were, but it was more like sparring, or practicing."

The mage gasped, nodded quickly. "So, the both of you were classmates, only for fighting?"

"No. Daveth taught me what I know about using blades, and I taught him about stealth... sneaking around, and using what's around you to further advance that." If racing across roof tops could count as that, after all.

"Oh, so that's how he got up to you... he must need more training if you were still able to spot him, though."

That statement was the equivalent of a double-edged sword. Daveth was a fast learner; she hadn't managed to hear him until he kicked loose stones around in his excitement. It was the otherworldly feel of eyes on her, however, that first set her nerves on edge, and ultimately alerted her to his presence. While that gave her a boost of confidence in her survival skills and made her proud of her ability to teach, she got the urge- not for the first time- to call off the training. As valuable as the skills were, she had to learn them for some very vital purposes. She didn't want to have to apply that associated feeling to him; it wouldn't be fair.

"He told me he came from Denerim as well. Did you two live close together?"

Before Kit had the chance to answer, her stomach rumbled loudly. She could do little else but laugh, climbing to her feet. "I think that the answer to that should come with breakfast," she said, waiting for Solona to stand before they made their way to the mess area. She made sure to walk slow as she told Solona about the purely accidental meeting, his making off with her purse and her chasing him down to retrieve it, and of how their friendship grew from the training that Daveth supplied. She left out the parts that involved her family and their kiss, not ready to delve into either subject right away.

That didn't stop her from taking immediate notice as she spotted him leaning up against the wall, talking animatedly with a pair of archers. She continued watching him, studying his features for... something. Or was it that he just commanded her attention, as the place where his hand firmly met her shoulder tingled from the memory of the action? It could also contribute to those damnable eyes of his, always searching her for answers or something equal to that, no matter if they were sparring or talking to each other-

Walking straight into a solid form broke her from her thoughts, backing up to a more than considerable distance immediately as he turned. Alistair, with a plate stacked high of cheese and a side of other foods, turned and smiled jovially. "Kit, glad to see you!" he greeted.

Kit snuck a glance in Daveth's direction, finding that his full attention was now on her. She pulled her eyes away, fighting the blush starting to rise up. _Perfect..._ "Good morning, Alistair," she replied.

"I didn't expect you two this early," he admitted, greeting Solona as well.

"Kit was telling me about how she and Daveth met," Solona said. "A very fun story, too," she added.

"Well, I hope you're not opposed to telling it again," Alistair requested. "That is, if you two would like to join me."

Kit eyed the Templar, smiling crookedly. "Should we bring more cheese with us, or do you have enough to last the day?"

"Oh, ha ha," Alistair dryly replied. "I haven't yet heard of it being a crime to like cheese, I'll have you know."

"This may be going past simply liking the food," she stated, gesturing to the pile.

"You may have a point, since this is the only reason why I rose so early..." Coughing nervously, Alistair returned his smile as he raked a hand through his hair. "Now that I've succeeded in embarrassing myself, we should probably change the subject... and eat something, I'm absolutely starved."

"I don't think it's embarrassing," Solona commented.

"Oh?" he asked. "Well, if that's so, maybe you could stick around and I could show you a couple of interesting looking moles I have."

Kit snorted, before laughing openly, as Solona hid her face behind her hand. "As long as it's after we're done eating," she insisted.

Food was gathered, with another more than generous helping of cheese for Alistair, and Kit was finding herself more and more at ease as the morning sky brightened ever further. Solona was quiet at first, which Kit had suspected came from the previous statements; Alistair's joking nature soon won her over, however, and had the mage laughing through her tiny bites of food. Through many bouts of unsuccessful prodding, it finally took a bit of a nostalgia feeling for Kit to tell her comrades about how her sisters managed to sneak away from the Chantry to catch a glimpse of the double wedding at the alienage.

Alistair's brows raised, seeming interested in this bit of information. "So, they learned from you, I gather?"

Kit snorted. "No. They're both seven, and are charmingly sweet enough to talk even the most hard-hearted person into giving them sweets. They don't need to learn how to sneak around."

"It sounds like you've been away from home for a long time," Solona commented.

"It certainly does... it took a few days on the road with Duncan to stop waking up so early, ready to expect the two of them to softly ask each other if they thought I was awake yet."

Solona and Alistair considered the sudden soft nature, before Solona broke the silence. "They sound adorable."

"They are," she assured Solona. Kit leaned forward, reaching for her drink, when the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She paused, suddenly aware, as she was the day before. A glance to where she last saw Daveth showed her no one standing in that spot. Maybe he moved, or was hiding somewhere else? Idly shifting her hand to her belt, she looked around openly, before turning halfway around and finding the source of her discomfort.

Sitting in the midst of camp, completely ignoring everyone else, sat a soft gray Mabari. His tongue was hanging out one side of his mouth, showing a lone black spot near the tip of it as it waggled back and forth with the force of his pants. Kit's brows furrowed in confusion over the seemingly random encounter. The Mabari in turn flicked his tongue back into his mouth, not taking his gaze from Kit. With a small whine, his head tilted to the side and back.

Kit dared risk a glance in Alistair's direction, still appearing confused.

"That's a Mabari," Alistair stated. "They're a specific breed of dog bred to fight like warriors a long time ago by a mage."

"I've read that story, once," Solona commented. "It was very interesting how it seemed the dogs took on a few more human characteristics. I suppose they would have to if they need to understand tactics and battle plans."

"So, this is a-" Kit started to explain, when a nose nudged under her elbow. She raised it, finding that the Mabari had scooted himself closer to Kit while she was distracted. He whined more insistently, looking to her plate of scraps and back.

Kit blinked, then shrugged, picking up the half load of bread she didn't finish. Seeing the way the Mabari's eyes widened and lit up made her pause in the process of offering it. "Just make sure you watch my fingers, I like them too much," she said, ignoring how silly it must seem to talk to a dog. The bread was placed before the canine muzzle, which he considered for a moment, before opening his mouth and very gently edging it from her grasp with just his front teeth. Once a sure hold was had, the Mabari turned around and trotted away, towards a line of fenced-in rectangles.

As Kit watched his progress, politely making his way around groups of talking soldiers and workers, she soon found herself standing from her seat and following, keeping him in sight. Stopping before one of the fenced areas, the Mabari adopted a sideways stance, reared his head to the side, then back to the fenced area... launching the bread into the pen. Kit shook her head at the sight; that dog seemed way too smart for its own good.

Until she drew closer as the gray Mabari stood on its hind legs, supporting the front paws on the fence, and peered in. There was a golden colored Mabari in the pen, looking for all the world to be absolutely pitiful as it lay on its side. It blinked wearily, sniffing lightly at the bread before allowing its head to fall back with exhaustion. The golden body was wrapped in a few places with cloth bandages, and a tip of its ear seemed to be missing, but the eyes...

"Awww," Solona crooned softly, reaching Kit's side. "The poor boy... I feel so sad for him."

Kit nodded, feeling that absolutely girly side to her feel pitiful and absolutely helpless towards this animal.

"This one lost his previous owner in the last darkspawn battle," a new voice spoke, drawing both ladies' attention. The kennel master seemed to be aged with stress lines across his forehead, but his eyes were filled with pity. "The poor fella' swallowed some darkspawn blood as well. He's stable now, but as you can see, isn't eating much of anything. It'd be a shame to have to put him down."

"Is there something we can do?" Solona asked, keeping her voice at a considering tone and volume for the Mabari's comfort. She noted his ear flickered towards her, but he didn't move much else.

"I want to begin treatment, but he won't let me near enough to put a muzzle on him first," the kennel master replied. "Not to mention I'm in sore need of more ointment. This isn't the first Mabari to have swallowed darkspawn blood before."

"There must be a particular plant needed," Kit mused aloud, cutting to the chase. "Where is it grown?"

"Out in the Wilds, usually growing on moss-overgrown, fallen trees. And understandably, we can't exactly venture out into the Wilds at will."

Biting her lower lip, Kit studied the Mabari, though not really looking at the animal. Maybe if she was quick enough, she could manage to sneak out and back before anyone caught her...

"What about your Mabari, miss?" the kennel master asked, turning his attention to the gray Mabari at Kit's side. "Is he needing anything, or did you bring her in for a check-up?"

The canine in question abruptly turned his head to the kennel master, a sharp keening whine escaping. Kit noted the action, before speaking. "Actually, he isn't my- ow!" The rogue cried out as the rather heavy dog decided to firmly sit down on her foot, his ears pinning back to his skull. Trying to budge it under the heavy weight wasn't effective, and so Kit was stuck. "Really?" she asked the Mabari. "Do you mind?"

She could swear that the dog _shook his head_ while keeping a very sharp gaze on the kennel master.

"Oh, come now," the kennel master argued to the dog. "The other ones didn't complain about their check-ups. In fact, they turned out just fine."

A short, terse bark was his reply, not budging an inch from Kit's foot, but rather backing his front paws closer to her.

_And here I thought that a dog's butt wouldn't be quite as bony as it is..._ "What is it about this 'check-up' that he's not liking?"

"Well," the kennel master started, fidgeting slightly over the awkward feeling. "They're usually very... thorough."

"... Ah." She seemed to think to herself, before trying to compromise. "Maybe if there was a way to numb the feeling-"

The Mabari craned his head around to look at her, barking rather passionately. Whether it was her imagination, or the work of her 'mind's ear', she could just picture a tenor voice saying, _"Exit only means EXIT. ONLY. I'd rather not have any exceptions to that rule, thank you!"_

"Okay, okay!" Kit insisted, laughing helplessly over how ridiculous this had to be. "I won't force you if you don't want to."

He whined softly, relaxing just slightly. _"My thanks, mistress."_

"Wait, 'mistress'?"

"Kit," Solona asked, after silence passed over the small group. "What is the Mabari saying?"

"You just called me 'mistress'," Kit insisted to the Mabari, answering Solona at the same time.

_"Indeed I did. And I really don't like the way Smells Like Many Mabaris is looking at us right now. Please tell me he'll be keeping his hands to himself, mistress. I'd hate to bite them off... well, maybe I'd enjoy it a little, if we're being honest right now."_

As Kit looked up to the kennel master, seeing that the Mabari's words were true, she just stopped herself from wanting to simply break free and start running. "... what's happening...?"

The kennel master laughed openly. "It seems to me this Mabari has chosen you. If you spend enough time with a large group of Mabaris, like I have, you start hearing them too... only, probably not as clear as you're hearing him right now, yes?" Continuing on past her obvious shock and confusion, he said, "If the two of you have time later, we should probably get you two imprinted to each other. It'd be a great idea to get it done as soon as possible, for the days to come may not be easy for any of us."

_"That had better not be a two-leggers code for 'hold the Mabari down and feel around in places that shouldn't be felt'."_

Giving up on trying to make sense of it, Kit replied. "If you stand up from my foot right now, I will personally guard your hindquarters until you deem it unnecessary."

The Mabari seemed to consider the deal before rising to a stand. _"Agreed, my mistress."_

* * *

><p><em>AN: Whoa, at the end! What a tweest, M. Night Shama-llama-ding-dong style! Two things:<em>

_1.) Yes, I'm giving my Mabaris personalities. They were bred by *mages*, and would therefore have a bit of mysticalness that can tie them to those that are "theirs" a bit better. xD And it's there for all the times where I would give anything in the world to know what my own puppy is thinking, to give me a form of satisfaction. (And I will have you know that yes, she does sit on my feet, and yes, her butt is bony.)_

_2.) http:/ www. youtube. com/ watch? v=wpjm ATbb0h 8&feature =plcp Simply add one to the end. xD_


	14. Chapter 14

Daveth had no idea what to make of this.

One minute, Kit was her usual guarded self, though lost in her own mind as she was, but when she bumped into that Alistair fellow and he said something to her, she was laughing. _Laughing, _without any forced feelings behind it. As some unidentified feeling spiked in his chest, he found himself marveling at the action. Daveth had never seen her with her guard completely down, or with such an open expression. He wanted to see it again as soon as it stopped, it was that strange.

He also wanted to know what Alistair said to provoke such a reaction. It was now his mission to find this out.

Dismissing himself from the archers with a quick nod, he started blending his way into the surroundings. It being an open area, there weren't that many places to hide. Since it was early in the morning, however, under the tables could provide a very nice cover. Drawing as close as he dared, he remained out of Kit's sight, since she was bound to notice him sooner than the other two. He settled down into a comfortable crouch and waited, listening hard above the growing symphony of dogs and soldiers waking.

Kit's story about her sisters made him listen more intently, not trying to figure out what it was Alistair said or did, but learning about her instead. And learning more about her led to more wondering why she would leave such beloved sisters behind. Daveth, if he were any other man, would have been frustrated at her continual refusal to open up about herself on a more personal level; he saw it more as a challenge. She would for him, Daveth was sure of it. Where Alistair had a bit of bumbling charm, he had experience-

And he did _not_ like where his thoughts were headed.

Kit stood and left the table for some reason he missed, the mage following behind her. Daveth wasted no time as Alistair started to rise himself, coming out of hiding to clap Alistair's shoulder and push him back down to sit. "Alistair, how's things?" he nonchalantly asked, sitting next to him and putting his back to the retreating girls.

"Oh," Alistair stated, letting himself be pushed back down to the bench. "Fine... I guess."

"So, I saw you talking with the girls just now..."

"Oh yeah? Why didn't you join in?" Alistair asked, growing more animated with his excitement. "You know that Solona brought eighteen books with her to Ostagar? Eighteen!"

"You don't say."

"And I don't know what it is about Kit, but she's awfully jumpy... and quiet. But," Alistair continued, "I'm sure you knew that already, since the two of you know each other pretty well. Can you tell me if there's some secret way to get her to relax?"

Daveth turned to his fellow Grey Warden, raising a brow. "To...?"

"To talk to her, of course. That's what men want women relaxed for, right?"

Daveth had to stop himself from shaking his head. The man wasn't knowledgeable in quite a few non-battle related things, that much the rogue was sure of. "Here I was about to ask you the same thing. That's the most relaxed I've ever seen her."

"Really?" Alistair asked. "Huh... could have fooled me."

Daveth waited for him to take another couple of (rather large) bites of food to ask further. "So, what _did_ you say?"

"When?" Alistair replied.

"When you first invited them over." _When you got her to laugh._

"Oh! Well, let's see... we talked about cheese..."

_Cheese? Hardly a topic of interest... unless there's a female copy of Alistair running around camp._ "And after that?" Daveth prompted.

"Kit teased me about how much I eat... hmmmm..."

_Which wouldn't go over very well were the tables turned._ "And then..."

"Oh! I joked about my moles!"

"... Your moles?"

"Yes! And you know what was amazing? It actually got Kit to laugh!"

Daveth was so shocked, he couldn't say anything but, "... Moles?"

Alistair felt a bit self conscious then, seeing Daveth's doubt. "I thought it was funny at the time... and so did Kit, mind you."

"You're sure that's what it was? You didn't say anything else?"

"No, I'm sure."

"It wasn't said in a funny voice, or as an imitation of someone else?"

"Maker's breath, Daveth, why are you asking?" Alistair protested, starting to grow flustered over the interrogation.

Suddenly backing off, the rogue replied, "Nothing."

"Oh no, it has to be something, if you're asking me all these things about..." Quieting as it dawned on him, Alistair suddenly smirked, turning to Daveth. "You like Kit, don't you?"

"What, no-" Daveth started to scoff.

"Ho ho ho, you _like her_ like her?"

"That's not it at all!"

"Nope, it's too late! You thought you could fool me, but no one gets anything past me for long!" Alistair crowed. "If I were you, I wouldn't be ashamed to admit it. I probably would be asking for help, though; she is one tough woman to talk to."

"I'm not asking for help," Daveth insisted, "because I do not like Kit!"

"... You hate her?"

"Yes. I mean, no-" He had to stop himself before making a further fool of himself. "I'm going to go away," he stated, hoping the burning across his face was not a blush. As he walked in the direction of the makeshift archery range, he forced himself to ignore Alistair's chuckling behind him. It was silly, Daveth wanting to learn Alistair's so-called secret to win over Kit... but honestly, how could anyone laugh like that over _moles_?

o0o0o

Kit's second day in Ostagar went smoothly, once she got used to the near constant canine companion beside her... and his ability to talk. There were quite a few interesting moments she had when having to tell Solona what the Mabari (they hadn't agreed on what his name should be as of yet) was telling her, since the mage couldn't understand him as of yet. Kit being able to hear her own Mabari seemed to open a gateway as well of other voices that only a select few people could hear.

And boy, were they absolute chatter boxes.

When not talking about battle plans, or fighting darkspawn, they were either talking to their masters about menial things, or to the other Mabaris about certain smells they encountered, or what they couldn't wait to eat. What broke her heart the most, however, were hearing the penned Mabaris. Feeling the pain, and getting progressively sicker as time went on doubled her plans on sneaking out into the Wilds and gathering up as much of this mysterious plant as she could. The golden furred Mabari that she had seen earlier didn't say too much, though she did barely catch him calling out to a nameless master when the small group passed by during the day.

And it was darkspawn blood that could do this? The Mabaris couldn't be the only ones affected like this, a cynical voice whispered after seeing a soldier in the infirmary in nearly the same condition as the sick dogs. The way he was crying out from a burning fire in his veins and not being able to see a thing made her understand why some soldiers were giving the infirmary a wide berth.

A nose nudging against her knee brought her out of the thoughts and into the present, where she was sitting close to a large bonfire and sharing an evening with Alistair and the rest of the recruits. Solona was to her immediate right, with Alistair following that, and the alienage elf- Nesiara- nearly across from her. Daveth sat to her left, with a knight who simply went by Jory on the other side of him. It hadn't been a particular favorable setting for Nesiara, who was silent no matter what anyone said to her. She did, however, openly flinch at too loud or open a response from anyone nearby. Kit couldn't help but feel for the largely-out-of-place elf, considering that many of the other elves that she had seen throughout camp were either servants or messengers.

_"The one that smells like cheese asked you a question," _her Mabari companion told her. _"May I have that bit of bread?"_

"Not if you're going to wolf it down like last time," Kit replied softly, before bringing her gaze to Alistair. "I'm sorry if I was rude, but I was thinking and spaced out on what you just said."

"That's fine," he replied, good naturedly. "I'm used to people not listening to me."

And now she felt even worse about it. Giving her Mabari half of the loaf of bread he was presently drooling over, she insisted. "I'm listening now; ask me."

"I was wondering how long you and Daveth knew each other," he asked, smiling and looking in Daveth's direction.

"Oh..." she replied, giving her friend a curious look. Finding him rather interested in his own plate, she gave them both a confused look as she replied. "About eight months." _What are the two of you up to?_

"That so? How interesting. How did the two of you meet?" Alistair continued.

A sharp whistle, followed by her Mabari's immediate reaction of nearly bowling her over to go towards said whistle, interrupted her. She caught herself in time for the dog to turn back, rather anxiously. _"I'm sorry, mistress, but that means it's time for us Mabari's to eat. Can I go?"_

"Of course," she replied, shaking her head. "No need to ask my permission."

_"My thanks! I'll return shortly with my food, I promise!"_ With that, he turned stubby tail and raced off.

She collected herself once again, readjusting her seat... and finding a rather expectant look from Alistair. "I'm sorry..." she began.

"How did you and Daveth meet."

"Thank you. Well, I'll spare the very boring details," Kit started, glossing over the exact specifics of their past. "He cut my purse, I chased him down and got it back, and a couple of days later he found me again in the market square. The rest is history."

"He cut your purse?" Jory asked, shocked.

"Well, yeah," Kit replied. "It was a very good job, too; I hardly noticed it gone until he said something."

"Interesting..." Jory mused to himself.

Kit paused, losing interest in her food and returning Mabari with a rather impressive leg of meat in his mouth. "What is?"

"The Grey Wardens allowing those with less savory talents amongst their ranks," the man replied. "It's an incredible thought."

Both Kit and Daveth stiffened, both for very different reasons. Yet, it was Kit that spoke up first. "I disagree. While it's an incredible thought to have such talented people in the Grey Warden ranks, pickpocketing isn't such an unsavory talent to have. It teaches dexterity, stealth, and how to closely study your targets- who just so happen to be moving targets, which only add to the difficulty. Anyone can break a lock and loot a chest's contents, but a skilled pickpocket can make robbing you blind an art."

Surfacing from her rant, she found everyone staring at her closely. Kit's face instantly flamed, turning her face down to her plate. "Well, it _is_," she muttered.

Daveth chuckled at the display, relaxing once more. "So you see, ser knight, we may be criminals, but we're artists at what we do." From the corner of his eye, he noticed Kit bringing a hand up to her face, fighting the smile starting to turn up the edges of her mouth. _Aha, mole-less progress!_

Or so he thought, as she suddenly rose. "On that note, I'm going to practice a bit before turning in for the night." Seeing her Mabari done with his meal, tongue lolling off to the side as he panted heavily, she simply started on her way to the washing pots. Kit already knew that he would follow her, starting to get used to the idea now. A strange thought occurred to her while she was walking: would he follow her to more private areas? Or would he understand her need for privacy? She'd have to ask the kennel master, or even her Mabari-

Something _whumped_ on the ground behind her. It was such an odd sound, she simply had to turn and see what it was. Seeing it was her Mabari sprawled out on his side, her heart leapt into her throat as the wooden plate was tossed away, racing over to her dog's side. Her fingers sunk into his fur, spurring no response. "Hey," she firmly spoke, shaking him. "Hey, say something... say something!"

Aside from a shuddering breath, her Mabari didn't even move. _Maker's breath, what's happening?_ "Help!" she shouted in the direction of the fire, starting to shake him harder. "Come on, wake up... wake up!"

Daveth was first to arrive, kneeling on the other side of the dog. "What happened?" he asked her.

"I don't know, he just collapsed," Kit helplessly explained, Solona reaching her side. Smoothing down the displaced fur showed her how bad along he was: his breathing was very shallow, and he was trembling. Tears pricked behind her eyes, feeling absolutely helpless over the fast turn of events.

"Here, help me lift him," Daveth gently ordered. Both rogues slid their hands under the war hound, creating a carrying team. Carefully, with Solona racing ahead to the kennel master, they both walked the Mabari over to the pens.

"No, over here," the kennel master insisted, directing them to a small tent off to the side. Before entering, he collected the Mabari from Kit, ignoring how her hands lingered in his fur as they turned away, entering the tent. Feeling lost, she remained where she stood, watching the spot where she last saw that gray fur.

A hand lightly traced down her arm before retreating, drawing her attention to Daveth. "You should sit down," he suggested. "It might help."

She shook her head. "No, I need to stay close by... he could need me," she said.

His mouth clamped shut, nodding in compliance. He wasn't going to argue with her while she was as nervous as she was. They set in to wait for any news, which seemed to take too long and not long at all. When the kennel master emerged from the tent, Kit was first to look at him, finding a somber face. Daveth, noticing this, felt his heart sink a little. Bad news was going to really hurt Kit.

"What's wrong with him?" Kit asked, her voice hard.

The kennel master released a slow breath, before answering. "I'm sorry..."

Solona gasped with surprise, covering her mouth with both hands. Daveth's eyes widened with shock, and he watched as Kit seemed to break a little. She shook her head in denial, saying, "No, no, I'm sure he's fine. He's going to be okay..."

"There was something in the meat he reacted to," the kennel master insisted. "I'm very sorry."

Kit wavered on her feet before falling to her knees, crying for the first time in a little over a week for a dog- no, for someone- she had known for less than a day. Daveth's arms slid around her, held her, and she let him. Kit didn't care, deep in her grief as she was. She also didn't care when she was led away from the tent, from _her_ Mabari, to the penned dogs. She had failed someone under her care for the first time ever, and she felt awful...

"You two stay here," the kennel master softly spoke to them. "I'll be back in half an hour with further instructions."

Kit's head jerked up. _Further instructions? On what how to bury a dog properly?_ Holy Maker, he was going to make her bury him?

Seeing her expression, the kennel master explained further. "Your Mabari's fine; this is simply what happens during the imprinting process."

She fell absolutely still. "... He's alive?"

"Yes. The 'something in his meat' was a certain herb, made to slow one's heartbeat and blood pressure. It'll wear off in half an hour or so, which is when I'll come get you for the rest of the-"

That was all he managed to say before Kit tried to leap up and get him, cursing a few murderous threats to him. The only saving factor was Daveth still keeping a hold on her, tightening as she sprung into action. The kennel master, understandably, backed away (more like _ran_ away), placating Kit enough to plop back down to a sit. Once back on the ground, she tightly wrapped her arms around Daveth, shaking while still crying. "I hate him, I hate him so much," she mumbled into his chest.

"I know," he soothed, rubbing her back as he held her. "It's alright, love, hush..." Instead of protesting the nickname, she only held him tighter. He chose not to comment, however, thinking she was going through enough of a trial right now to have their moment ruined.

o0o0o

It was dark. He was surrounded by earth, blood, and death. It was in the air, all around him, sinking into his fur, and absolutely terrifying him. He remembered being taken away from his mistress and her fellow pack mate to Smells Like Many Mabaris, who put him somewhere... then this. When he tried to move his head to see, the smell of earth increased, soon to be followed by the last two scents. He wanted to shy away from it all, to run back to his mistress...

He could hear her crying, hear somber-spoken tones, feel her sorrow. This only happened with death. He couldn't have died, he was fine just a second ago! Once again, he tried to move, only to gain nothing... not even a twitch.

He couldn't even whine with sorrow at the realization.

This darkness lasted for so long, he truly believed he was dead by the time hands lifted him again, carrying him away from the smells. He could still smell it on him, curling into his nose unwillingly, and he couldn't move to escape it. They were going to carry him away from his home, from his canine friends- _no, please, not from his mistress!_ His body was going to be eaten by the animals... or by worse things...

His hide touched a strange sensation, rested against something, and there he lay. There was a thrumming, movement, to this thing he was resting on, and he remembered when he once had it for himself, how wondrous a feeling it was that he took for granted. But then, a strange thing happened... air was filling his nose. His chest reacted by expanding, then contracting. The process was repeated a few times, a certain particular scent coming with this air. It was overpowering the scent of death...

The darkness suddenly lightened once he started breathing for himself, more and more of the lovely scent filling his lungs. Something was dipped in water, then set against him, swiping smooth strokes down his fur and carrying more death away from him. His paw twitched, followed by frantic body jerks, keening whines tearing from him as water splashed. Wasn't he dead? What was happening?

A soft voice crooned to him, convinced him to lay still, as the kind hands ever worked further to wash the death from him. He was alive!

"It's alright," his mistress reassured him. "You're safe now, Wolf... you're safe."

Wolf, she called him... a strong creature, one that prowled the woods and feared nothing, not even death. For someone that just defied death itself, it seemed a rather fitting name for him. His Mistress was a smart one!

Once he was fully relaxed and cleaned, with the scent of Mistress absolutely filled in him, giving him new purpose, she held him close to her. "I'll never let that happen to you," she whispered in his ear. "I'll keep you safe."

_"I won't let that happen to you either, Mistress,"_ Wolf vowed to her. _"I'll keep you safe."_

* * *

><p><em>AN: So sorry for the sloppy original update... I wanted to get this up for Eve Hawke's birthday and rushed it a bit. :D<em>


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